PR 

1910 



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ins YALE 


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DIVERSITY 


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DRAMATIC 


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ASSOCIATICN 


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ACTING VERSION OP 


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LONDON 


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ASSVRANCE 


1 


BY DION L. BOUCICAULT 





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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






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LONDON ASSURANCE 

A COMEDY IN FIVE ACTS 

BY 

DION L. BOUCICAULT 

ACTING VERSION OF 

THE YALE UNIVERSITY 
DRAMATIC ASSOCIATION 

(INCORPORATED) 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
By William Lyon Phelps, Ph.D. 

Lampson Professor of English Literature at Yale University 
Honorary Me7nber of the Y(fle University Dramatic Association 



# 



NEW HAVEN, CONN. 

Published under the Supervision of 
Philip Roberts, 1910 



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THE TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE & TAYLOR COMPANY, 
NEW HAVEN, CONN. 



©CI,D ]77:,7 



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THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO 

HENRY ARTHUR JONES, ESQ., 

OF LONDON^ 

WITH ADMIRATION FOR THE DRAMATIST 

AND AFFECTION FOR THE MAN 









^^^^ ^ 



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^/L,^.^^ C2^ M^ ^^<2u>*<2i-t-Ou-«^ 



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(Autograph letter of Dion Boucicault's in possession of Prof. William Lyon Phelps.) 



INTRODUCTION. 



The Yale University Dramatic Association. 

The Association was founded by Henry D. Wescott, Esq., 
of the class of 1901, and its initial performance was given at 
the Hyperion Theatre, New Haven, on the twenty-third of 
May, in the last year of the last century. On that occasion, 
memorable in itself and in its subsequently fulfilled promise, 
the Association produced a dramatic version of Chaucer's 
Pardoner's Tale, prepared by Mr. Wescott, and a Mediaeval 
Mystery, Secunda Pastorum. The object of this student 
organization was both dignified and scholarly ; no cheap bur- 
lesques or so-called "musical comedies," devoid as they 
usually are, even on the professional stage, of both comedy 
and music, were to be allowed. This good policy has been 
generally followed. The Association has given, for the 
first time in English anywhere in the world, representations 
of Ibsen's Pretenders and of Gogol's Revizor: it has revived 
such plays as Heywood's The Fair Maid of the West (first 
performance in America), Goldsmith's The Good-Natured 
Man, and Sheridan's Critic. Since 1905 the Association 
has given annual performances outside of New Haven ; 
and this year, for the first time, it will play in Washington, 
the trip being made during the Christmas vacation, to avoid 
interference with regular college work. 

Nearly every year in the past decade has seen something 
new in the history of the Association. The year 1909 will 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

long be remembered as the period when an open air Com- 
mencement play was first undertaken. On the Saturday- 
night preceding Commencement, under the Campus elms, 
was produced Merry Wives of Windsor, with Mr. Parry, '09, 
as Falstaff. No spectator will ever forget this performance. 
It was one of the most entertaining and at the same time 
one of the most impressive dramatic representations ever 
witnessed in this part of the world. Nor should we forget 
another great event in the year 1909, when, on the nineteenth 
of April, Miss Maude Adams brought her entire company 
from New York, and gave a splendid performance of J. M. 
Barrie's new play. What Every Woman Knozvs. Every 
item of expense connected with this production was borne 
by Miss Adams, and the large receipts were given by her to 
the Yale University Dramatic Association, to go toward the 
fund being raised for the proposed University Theatre. The 
writer has seldom witnessed a dramatic spectacle where 
there was so much emotion both on the stage and in the 
auditorium. At the conclusion of the performance, Mr. 
Parry presented Miss Adams with a suitable token, announc- 
ing at the same time that she had been chosen as an 
Honorary Member of the Association. 

In 1907 the Association definitely adopted the policy of 
publishing their acting version of the play selected, a custom 
which has been followed by other universities. This gives 
a certain permanence to the work of the students, and is so 
well managed by them that no financial loss has as yet 
resulted. This year, for the Christmas trip and for the 
Saturday Promenade performances, the Association has 
decided on a revival of Boucicault's London Assurance, a 
comedy that no undergraduate has ever had an opportunity 
to witness, but which shines bright in the recollections of 



INTRODUCTION. VU 

old playgoers. The President of the Association for the 
present academic year is Mr. T. Lawrason Riggs, who has 
been successful throughout his college course in the inter- 
pretation of feminine roles, and who at the same time has 
won the highest honours in scholarship ; the Manager, on 
whom the burden of the practical side of the work falls, is 
Mr. C. P. Franchot, who, despite the immense labour 
involved in the business management, has consistently main- 
tained a high standing in the curriculum. 

Dion Boucicault. 

Boucicault died at New York, on the eighteenth of Sep- 
tember, 1890. A few days after his death, Mr. Stephen 
Fiske remarked, ''One of the arguments employed to prove 
that Bacon wrote Shakespeare's works is that nobody knows 
anything about Shakespeare, who lived three hundred years 
ago. Yet here is the Shakespeare of Ireland, who has been 
with us all these years and who died only last week, and yet 
nobody knows positively how old he was, where he was born, 
or who was his father. Shakespeare's name is spelled dif- 
ferently in various documents — another argument in favour 
of Bacon. But Boucicault's name used to be spelled 
Bourcicault ; he altered it only a few years ago, and it was 
probably neither Bourcicault or Boucicault when he left 
Dublin for London, and assumed all the 'London assurance' 
after which he named his best comedy. 

"Another Baconian argument is that nobody knows how 
Shakespeare got the education which he showed in his plays. 
Where did Boucicault get his education ? He spoke French 
as fluently as English; his Latin quotations were as pat as 
his Irish wit. At sixteen years of age he had astonished 
the world with one of the brightest comedies in any Ian- 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

guage. [This must be taken with a pinch of salt, as 
"nobody knows positively how old he was."] When and 
where did he find time to study ? After three hundred years, 
commentators are puzzled by the problem how Shakespeare, 
a mere lad, just from Stratford-on-Avon, could have written 
'Hamlet.' [Another saline solution is required here.] Yet 
no commentator can explain how Boucicault, a mere boy, 
fresh from Dublin, could write 'London Assurance' — and 
Boucicault has not been dead a week. 

"But, not to push too curiously a comparison that will 
suggest itself to everybody, let us add that in personal 
appearance Boucicault was not unlike the pictures of 
Shakespeare. He had the same domed head, and some of 
the qualities inside it. The one great dissimilarity is that 
Boucicault was not a poet of the first rank, like Shakespeare. 
But he had the poetry as well as the humour of the Irish. 
He did for Ireland by his splendid trio of plays — 'The 
Colleen Bawn,' 'Arrah-na-Pogue,' and 'The Shaughraun,' — 
what Shakespeare did for England in his historical plays." 

The life of Boucicault was in fact as romantic as any 
of his dramas. No one knows when he was born, but like 
Oscar Wilde, Bernard Shaw, George Moore and W. B. 
Yeats, he was an Irishman with a French education. Like 
these other compatriots, he added to his native wit and 
humour the technical skill that is so often supplied by a good 
knowledge of French. Where he obtained the necessary 
training for a dramatic career is absolutely unknown ; when 
he was very young, his comedy London Assurance was pro- 
duced at London, and a few months later, in America, and 
scored a tremendous hit. Then followed a rapid succession 
of plays, many of which had a sensational vogue. Eleven 
years after the appearance of his first play, which he wrote 



INTRODUCTION. IX 

and produced under the assumed name of Lee Morton, 
Boucicault made his dehut as an actor. This was on the 
fourteenth of June, 1852. From this time on, he was one of 
the most famous actors on the EngHsh-speaking stage, 
excelling particularly in pathos. In 1853 he was married to 
Miss Agnes Robertson, who had been an actress since she 
was ten years old, and who was still acting in 1896. Two 
sons and two daughters of this pair also went on the stage. 
In the year of his marriage, 1853, ^^ went with his wife to 
the United States, where they remained until i860. In 
1861 was produced in London his play The Octoroon, which 
was meant to illustrate the evils of slavery in the Southern 
States, and which had a prolonged success. Perhaps his 
best work is contained in the three plays quoted above in 
the extract from Fiske. Mr. William Winter said of him, 
"The dramas of Boucicault are seldom, if ever, original in 
plot, but they are often original in action, treatment of inci- 
dents, and are bright in dialogue. He has been the means 
of great improvement and elevation to the Irish drama, 
having replaced the 'ranting, roaring Irishman,' with 
stuffed stick and black bottle, by genuine men of the Emer- 
ald Isle." One of his greatest services to the cause of the 
drama, and for which his memory will always be kept green 
by playwrights, consisted in the fact that it was he who 
insisted that the dramatist, and not the management, nor the 
actors, was the Hauptsache in a theatrical production. 
He found that it was customary for the management to give 
the dramatist a small fee, and none of the profits. He 
insisted that the playwright should receive a percentage of 
the receipts, and won his point, winning at the same time 
immense fortunes for his successors in the field of dramatic 
composition. Mr. Winter has pointed out one illustration of 



X INTRODUCTION. 

the difference in margin caused by this new method. For 
his play The Corsican Brothers, Boucicault received three 
hundred dollars ; in 1866, for The Flying Scud, he received 
thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars ! In every way he 
successfully established the principle that "the play's the 
thing." 

In 1876 he took up his pemianent residence in the United 
States, where, in the language of the Dictionary of National 
Biography, he repudiated his wife and made "other 
so-called nuptial arrangements, casting on his children an 
unmerited stigma." 

He was an extraordinary person and suffered from a well- 
defined case of the artistic temperament. He made and 
squandered fortunes, living like a prince. According to 
Fiske, "in business, he never knew the value of a contract, 
and prided himself upon never keeping his word unless he 
liked. . . . For ten years he ruled the theatrical world of 
London and New York. 'I am an emperor,' he said, and 
take what I think best for Art, whether it be a story from a 
book, a play from the French, an actor from a rival com- 
pany.' " M. Filon, the distinguished French critic, said, 
"He was plagiarism incarnate." 

In spite of his prodigious and constant successes, he lived 
to see his dramas called "old-fashioned." In 1882, in his 
book, English Dramatists of To-day, Mr. William Archer 
refused to give Boucicault a separate chapter, and included 
him in a prefatory section, called Playzvrights of Yesterday. 
"He is no longer a living and eft'ective influence in the dra- 
matic life of the country. He is one of the giants that 
were — yesterday." 



INTRODUCTION. 



"London Assurance/' 



The play was first produced at Covent Garden, London, 
on the fourth of March, 1841. On the eleventh of October 
of the same year it appeared at the Park Theatre, New 
York. M. Filon says, "In his first great success, London 
Assurance, you may find not only Goldsmith and Sheridan, 
but Terence and Plautus, who had reached him by way of 
Moliere . . . He knew no other world than that of the 
theatre — the world which from eight o'clock till midnight 
laughs and cries, curses and makes love, dies and murders, 
under the gaslight, behind three sets of painted canvas." 
There are many old bucks of sixty-odd to-day who can 
recall their delight at historic performances of London 
Assurance, and even within thirty years it was commonly 
seen on the stage. Many Bostonians will remember the 
excellent presentation of their old favourite by the admira- 
ble stock company at the Boston Museum. Mr. Clement 
Scott did not apparently agree with Mr. Archer that Bouci- 
cault was a man of yesterday, for on the second page of the 
first volume of his extended reminiscences of the drama, he 
said, "Was it that, about this time, were produced in Lon- 
don, close upon sixty years ago, two plays that have, in 
spite of the buffets of time, and change, and circumstance, 
remained stage classics to this hour [1899] ; thereby uphold- 
ing my contention, that a good play with heart and life and 
humour in it, never failed, and never will fail, except 
through the fault of its interpreters? I allude, of course, to 
Bulwer Lytton's 'Money,' presented at the Haymarket 
Theatre on the 8th of December, 1840, and to Dion Bouci- 
cault's 'London Assurance,' which first flashed into notice 
on the 4th of March, 1841, and started into life one of the 
brightest and most workmanlike dramatists of our time, 



Xll INTRODUCTION. 

who, in addition to his remarkable technical skill as a play- 
wright, proved himself to be an Irish comedian almost with- 
out a rival. ... I have heard these famous plays, born 
when I was born, stage classics to this hour, called old 
fashioned, out of date, and sneered at as the kind of stage 
work that should be kindly forgotten and forgiven. . . . 
Do you think that 'London Assurance' would fail with a 
Farren for a Sir Harcourt Courtly, a Charles Mathews for 
Dazzle, and a Nisbet for Lady Gay? Perish the thought !" 

It would seem then that if the play is intelligently pre- 
sented, it cannot fail. Those who have seen Yale actors 
under the spell of Mr. Short's inspiring teaching, may be 
reasonably certain that London Assurance will once more 
awaken that spontaneous and inextinguishable laughter 
that made London town resound with its happy echoes 
sixty-eight years ago. 

William Lyon Phelps. 
Yale College, Thanksgiving, 1909. 



THE YALE UNIVERSITY DRAMATIC 
ASSOCIATION, 

(INCORPORATED) 

(Founded February 28th, 1900, by Harry D. Wescott.) 



OFFICERS 

President, 
THOMAS LAWRASON RIGGS, 1910. 

Vice President, 
HARVEY TRACY WARREN, 1910. 

Secretary, 
LOOMIS HAVEMEYER, 1910S. 

Manager, 
CHARLES PASCAL FRANCHOT, 1910. 

Assistant Manager, 
WILLIAM ARCHIBALD McAFEE, 191 1. 

Press Manager, 
THOMAS HEWES, 1910. 

Assistant Press Manager, 
ROBERT COLEMAN WALKER, 191 1. 



Honorary Members. 

MISS MAUDE ADAMS. 

PROFESSOR WILLIAM LYON PHELPS. 

PROFESSOR EDWARD BLISS REED. 

MR. FRANK LEA SHORT. 



Active Members. 

1910. 

HOWARD CLIFTON BAKER. 
STEPHEN MERRELL CLEMENT, JR. 

DAVID JAY ELY. 

ARTHUR ROBERTSON FERGUSSON. 

CHARLES PASCAL FRANCHOT. 

THOMAS HEWES. 
JOHN TRUMBULL METCALF. 

HAROLD OBERNAUER. 

THOMAS LAWRASON RIGGS. 

PHILIP ROBERTS. 

HARVEY TRACY WARREN. 

1911. 

ARTHUR AMORY GAMMELL. 

ARTHUR MOWRY HARTWELL. 

CHARLES VIRGIL HICKOX, JR. 

WILLIAM ARCHIBALD McAFEE. 

JOHN VINCENT McDONNELL. 

WILLIAM Deforest manice. 

SAMUEL JOHNSON NEWMAN 

FRANCIS BAYARD RIVES 

ROBERT COLEMAN WALKER. 

EDGAR MONTILLION WOOLLEY. 

1912. 

WILLIAM CHRISTIAN BULLITT, JR. 

EDWARD STEVENS. 

ALEXANDER CAMPBELL TENER. 

1910S. 

LINDELL THEODORE BATES. 

MATTHEW GRISWOLD ELY. 

LOOMIS HAVEMEYER. 

1912 L. 
HENRY DANIEL GIBBONS. 




Frank Lea Short, 
Stage Director. 



THE YALE UNIVERSITY DRAMATIC ASSOCIATION 

(INCORPORATED) 

Presents as its 

ELEVENTH ANNUAL PRODUCTION 



44 



LONDON ASSURANCE'' 

BY DION L. BOUCICAULT 

Under the stage direction of 
MR. FRANK LEA SHORT 



MERIDEN-Polfs Theatre, December 23d, 1909. 
WASHINGTON, D. C.--New National Theatre, afternoon of 

December 27th, 1909. 
BALTIMORE, MD.-Albaugh's Theatre, December 28th, 1909. 
ORANGE, N. J.-Bijou Theatre, December 29th, 1909. 
BRIDGEPORT-Jackson's Theatre, December 30th, 1909. 
WATERBURY-Poirs Theatre, December 31, 1909. 
HARTFORD-Hartford Theatre, January 1st, I9I0. 
NEW YORK CITY--WaIdorf-Astoria Hotel, Monday, January 4th, 

Tuesday afternoon and evening, January 5th, 1 9 10. 
POUGHKEEPSIE-CoIIingwood Theatre, afternoon of January 

8th, 191 0. 

NEW HAVEN- -Hyperion Theatre, afternoon and evening of 
January 1 5th, 19 10. 



FORMER PRODUCTIONS. 



May 23d, 1900. 

"The Pardoner's Tale" of Chaucer and "The Second 

Shepherd's Play." 

April 23d and 24th, igoi. 
Thomas Heywood's "The Fair Maid of the West." 

October 22d, 1901. 

Bicentennial Campus Celebration — Under Auspices of the 

Yale Dramatic Association. 

April 23d and 24th, 1902. 

Sheridan's "The Critic" and Townley's "High Life Below 

Stairs." 

April 27th and 28th, 1903. 
Oliver Goldsmith's "The Good-Natured Man." 

April 19th and 20th, 1904. 
Tom Taylor's "New Men and Old Acres." 

April 4th and 5th, and Carnegie Lyceum, New York, April 7th, 1905. 
A. W. Pinero's "The Magistrate." 

April 3d and 4th, 1906. 
Shakespeare's "Henry IV, Part I." 

First Promenade Performance, January 19th, 1907. 
A. W. Pinero's "The Amazons." 



LONDON ASSURANCE. xvii 

April ist, Parsons' Theatre, Hartford, Conn.; April 2d and 

2d, Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York, and April 5th 

and 6th, 1907, Hyperion Theatre, New Haven. 

Henrik Ibsen's "The Pretenders." 

November i8th, 1907, College Street Hall. 

"El Doctor y El Enfermo," "Einer Muss Heiraten," and 

"Le Pretexte." 

Second Promenade Performance, January i8th, 1908. 
Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest." 

April 20th, 1908, Waldorf-Astoria Hotel; April 21st, Parsons' 

Theatre, Hartford, Conn.; April 22d, Poll's Theatre, 

Waterbury, Conn.; April 24th and 23th, 

Hyperion Theatre, New Haven. 

Nikolas V. Gogol's "Revizor." 

First Christmas Vacation Trip. 
Charles Selby's "The Fire-Eater" and Richard Brinsley Sheridan's 

"The Critic." 
December 30th, 1908, Parsons' Theatre, Hartford; December 31st, 
Smith's Theatre, Bridgeport; January ist, 1909, Poll's Theatre, 
Meriden; January 2d, Poll's Theatre, Waterbury; Jan- 
uary 4th and 3th, Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York; 
January i6th, Hyperion Theatre, New Haven. 

First Commencement Performance. 

Shakespeare's "The Merry Wives of Windsor." 

June 26, 1909, The Yale Campus, New Haven. 



LOCAL MANAGERS. 



Meriden — Willard C. Hyatt, 1905. 
Washington — G. Gould Lincoln, 1902. 
Baltimore — Frederick C. Colston, 1904. 
Orange — Committee of Essex County Alumni Associa- 
tion. 
Bridgeport — Bronson M. Warren, 1904. 
Waterhury — Edwin C. Northrop, 1904. 

Howard S. White, 1903. 
Hartford — Ralph D. Cutler, 1907. 
Nezv York — George S. Chappell, 1899. 

Franklin A. Johnston, 1903. 
Poughkeepsie — Denman F. Fox, 1904. 



COMMITTEES. 



Stage Manager. 
Francis Bayard Rives, 191 i. 

Property Men. 

Philip Moen Stimson, 1910. 

Joseph Epes Brown, Jr., 1913. 

Costume Committee. 
David Everett Chantler, 1910. Havens Grant, 1911. 

Press Committee. 
T. Hewes, 1910, Chairman. 
R. C. Walker, 1911. E. Stevens, 1912. 
J. Alden, 1911. J. R. Winterbotham, Jr., 1912. 

J. C. Biddle, 1912. P. M. Whelan, 1912. 

Book Editors. 
Philip Roberts, 1910. Allen Skinner Hubbard, 191 i. 



The music is by the Yale Orchestra, under the direction of 
Richardson Phelps, 1910. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



Sir Harcourt Courtly^ Edgar Montillion Woollcy, ipii. 



Charles Courtly, 

Dazzle, 

Max Harkaway, 

Dolly Spanker, 

Mark Meddle, 

Cool, 

Solomon Isaacs, 

Martin, 

James Simpson (butler), 



William DeForest Manice, igii. 

Harvey Tracy Warren, ipio. 

Harold Obernaner, ipio 

Thomas Lazvrason Riggs, ipio. 

John Trumbull Metcalf, ipio. 

Matthew Griswold Ely, ipio S. 

David Everett Chantler, igio. 

David Jay Ely, ipio. 



Lady Gay Spanker, 

Grace Harkaway, 
Pert, 



Alexander Campbell Tener, 1Q12. 

William Christian Bidlitt, Jr., IQ12. 
Arthur Moivry Hartzvell, ipii. 
Joseph Epes Brown, Jr., 191 3. 



[The introductory matter is the only part of this book protected by copyright.] 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene — An ante-room in Sir Harcourt Courtlt's house 
in Belgrave square. 

Enter Cool, center. 

Cool. Half-past nine, and Mr. Charles has not yet 
returned. If his father happens to rise earlier than usual 
on any morning, he is sure to ask first for Mr. Charles. 
Poor deluded old gentleman — he little thinks how he is 
deceived. 

Enter Martin, lazily, left. 

Well, Martin, he has not come home yet ! 

Martin. No, and I have not had a wink of sleep all 
night. I cannot stand this any longer ; I shall give warning. 
This is the fifth night Mr. Courtly has remained out, and 
I'm obliged to stand at the hall window to watch for him. 

Cool. You know, if Sir Harcourt was aware that we 
connived at his son's irregularities, we should all be dis- 
charged. 

Mar. I have used up all my common excuses on his 
duns. "Call again," "Not at home," and "Send it down 
to you," won't serve any more; and Mr. Crust, the wine 
merchant, swears he will be paid. 



2 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Cool. So they all say. Why he has arrests out against 
him already. I've seen the fellows watching the door. 
(Loud knock and ring heard, left.) There he is, just in 
time — quick, Martin, for I expect Sir Harcourt's bell every 
moment (bell rings, right), and there it is. (Exit Martin, 
slowly, right.) Thank Heaven! he will return to college 
to-morrow, and this heavy responsibility will be taken off my 
shoulders. A valet is as difficult a post to fill properly as 
that of prime minister. (Exit, left.) 

Young C. (Without.) Hollo! 

Dazzle. (Without.) Steady. 

Enter Young Courtly and Dazzle, left. 

Young C. Hollo-o-o! 

Daz. Hush ! what are you about, howling like a Hotten- 
tot. Sit down there, and thank Heaven you are in Belgrave 
square instead of Bow street. 

Young C. D — d — damn Bow street. 

Daz. Oh, with all my heart ! — you have not seen as much 
of it as I have. 

Young C. I say — let me see — what was I going to 
say? — oh, look here — (pulls out a large assortment of bell- 
pulls, knockers, etc., from his pocket). There! dam 'me! 
I'll puzzle the postmen — I'll deprive them of their right of 
disturbing the neighborhood. That black lion's head did 
belong to old Vampire, the money-lender; this bell-pull to 
Miss Stitch, the milliner. 

Daz. And this brass griffin — 

Young C. That ! oh, let me see — I think I twisted that 
off our own hall-door as I came in, while you were paying 
the cab. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 3 

Daz. What shall I do with them? 

Young C. Pack 'em in a small hamper, and send 'em 
to the sitting magistrate with my father's compliments ; in 
the meantime come into my room, and I'll astonish you 
with some Burgundy. 

Reenter Cool^ center, door. 

Cool. (Right.) Mr. Charles — 

Young C. (Center.) Out! out! not at home to any 
one. 

Cool. And drunk — 

Young C. As a lord. 

Cool. If Sir Harcourt knew this he would go mad, he 
would discharge me. 

Young C. You flatter yourself ; that would be no proof 
of his insanity. (To Dazzle, left.) This is Cool, sir, Mr. 
Cool ; he is the best liar in London — there is a pungency 
about his invention, and an originality in his equivocation, 
that is perfectly refreshing. 

Cool. (Aside.) Why, Mr. Charles, where did you pick 
him up? 

Young C. You mistake, he picked me up. (Bell rings, 
right.) 

Cool. Here comes Sir Harcourt — pray do not let him 
see you in this state. 

Young C. State ! what do you mean ? I am in a beau- 
tiful state. 

Cool. I should lose my character. 

Young C. That would be a fortunate epoch in your life. 
Cool. 

Cool. Your father would discharge me. 



4 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Young C. Cool, my dad is an old ass. 

Cool. Retire to your room, for Heaven's sake, Mr. 
Charles. 

Young C. I'll do so for my own sake. {To Dazzle) I 
say, old fellow (staggering), just hold the door steady while 
I go in. 

Daz. This way. Now, then ! — take care ! (Helps him 
into the room, right.) 

Enter Sir Harcourt Courtly, left, in an elegant dressing- 
gozvn, and Greek skull-cap and tassels, etc. 

Sir Harcourt. (Center.) Cool, is breakfast ready? 

Cool. (Right.) Quite ready, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Apropos. I omitted to mention that I expect 
Squire Harkaway to join us this morning, and you must 
prepare for my departure to Oak Hall immediately. 

Cool. Leave town in the middle of the season. Sir 
Harcourt? So unprecedented a proceeding! 

Sir H. It is ! I confess it ; there is but one power could 
effect such a miracle — that is divinity. 

Cool. How ? 

Sir H. In female form, of course. Cool, I am about 
to present society with a second Lady Courtly ; young — 
blushing eighteen ; lovely ! I have her portrait ; rich ! I 
have her banker's account ; — an heiress, and a Venus ! 

Cool. Lady Courtly could be none other. 

Sir H. Ha ! ha ! Cool, your manners are above your 
station. Apropos, I shall find no further use for my brocade 
dressing-gown. 

Cool. I thank you. Sir Harcourt ; might I ask who the 
fortunate lady is? 

Sir H. Certainly; Miss Grace Harkaway, the niece of 
my old friend. Max. 




H. T. Warren, 1910, 
as Dazzle.. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 5 

Cool. Have you never seen the lady, sir? 

Sir H. Never — that is, yes — eight years ago. Her 
father, who had made a market of my indiscretion, and 
suppHed my extravagance with large sums of money on 
mortgages, desired to unite the two properties. About seven 
years ago he died — leaving Grace, to the guardianship of 
her uncle, with this will : — if, on attaining the age of nine- 
teen, she would consent to marry me, I should receive those 
deeds, and all his property, as her dowry. H she refused 
to comply with this condition, they should revert to my heir, 
presumptive or apparent. She consents. 

Cool. (Aside.) Who would not? 

Sir H. I consent to receive her £15,000 a year. 

(Crosses to left.) 

Cool. Who would not? 

Sir H. So prepare. Cool, prepare (crosses to right) . 
but where is my boy, where is Charles ? 

Cool. Why — oh, he is gone out, Sir Harcourt ; yes, 
gone out to take a walk. 

Sir H. a perfect child in heart — a sober, placid mind — 
fresh and unsullied by any contact with society. Tell me. 
Cool, at what time was he in bed last night? 

Cool. Half-past nine. Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Half-past nine ! Reposing in cherub slumbers, 
while all around him teems with drinking and debauchery! 
No pilot-coated, bear-skinned brawHng! 

Cool. Oh, Sir Harcourt ! 

Sir H. No cigar-smoking — 

Cool. Faints at the smell of one. 

Sir H. No brandy and water bibbing — 

Cool. Doesn't know the taste of anything stronger than 
barley-water. 



6 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. No night parading — 

Cool. Never heard the clock strike twelve, except at 
noon. 

Sir H. In fact, he is my son, and became a gentleman 
by right of paternity — he inherited my manners. 

Enter Martin, left. 
Mar. Mr. Harkaway. 

Enter Max Harkaway, left. 

Max. Squire Harkaway, fellow, or Max Harkaway, 
another time. Ah ! ha ! Sir Harcourt, I'm devilish glad to 
see you ! Gi'me your fist — dang it but I'm glad to see you ! 
Let me see : six — seven years or more, since we have met. 
How quickly they have flown ! 

Sir H. {Throwing off his studied manner.) Max, 
Max! give me your hand, old boy. {Aside.) Ah! he is 
glad to see me; there is no fawning pretence about that 
squeeze. Cool, you may retire. {Exit Cool, right.) 

Max. Why, you are looking quite rosy. 

Sir H. Ah, ha! rosy! Am I too florid? 

Max. Not a bit; not a bit. 

Sir H. I thought so. {Aside.) Cool said I had put 
too much on. 

Max. {Left.) How comes it, Courtly, you manage to 
retain your youth? See, I'm as gray as an old badger, 
while you are — are as black as a young rook. I say, whose 
head grew your hair, eh ? 

Sir H. Permit me to remark, that all the beauties of 
my person are of home manufacture. Why should you be 
surprised at my youth? I have scarcely thrown off the 
giddiness of a very boy — elasticity of limb — buoyancy of 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 7 

soul! Remark this position. {Throws himself into an atti- 
tude.) I held that attitude for ten minutes at Lady Acid's 
last reunion, at the express desire of one of our first 
sculptors, while he was making a sketch of me for the 
Apollo. 

Max. (Aside.) Making a butt of thee for their gibes. 

Sir H. Lady Sarah Sarcasm started up, and pointing 
to my face, ejaculated, "Good gracious! does not Sir 
Harcourt remind you of the countenance of Ajax, in the 
Pompeian portrait?" 

Max. Ajax! — humbug! 

Sir H. You are complimentary. 

Max. I'm a plain man, and always speak my mind. 
What's in a face or figure? Does a Grecian nose entail 
a good temper? Does a waspish waist indicate a good 
heart? Or, do oily perfumed locks necessarily thatch a well- 
furnished brain? 

Sir H. It's an undeniable fact, plain people always 
praise the beauties of the mind. 

Max. Excuse the insinuation ; I thought the first Lady 
Courtly had surfeited you with beauty. 

Sir H. No; she lived fourteen months with me, and 
then eloped with an intimate friend. Etiquette compelled 
me to challenge the seducer; so I received satisfaction — 
and a bullet in my shoulder at the same time. However, I 
had the consolation of knowing that he was the handsomest 
man of the age. She did not insult me by running away 
with a damned ill-looking scoundrel. 

Max. That, certainly, was flattering. 

Sir H. I felt so, as I pocketed the ten thousand pounds 
damages. 



8 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Max. That must have been a great balm to your sore 
honor. 

Sir H. It was — Max, my honor would have died with- 
out it ; for on that year the wronof horse won the Derby — by 
some mistake. It was one of the luckiest chances — a thing 
that does not happen twice in a man's life — the opportunity 
of getting rid of his wife and his debts at the same time. 

Max. Tell the truth, Courtly — Did you not feel a Httle 
frayed in your delicacy — your honor, now ? Eh ? 

Sir H. Not a whit. Why should I ? I married money, 
and I received it — virgin gold ! The world pities the 
bereaved husband, when it should congratulate. No; the 
affair made a sensation, and I was the object. Besides, it is 
vulgar to parade one's feelings, however acute they may be ; 
impenetrability of countenance is the sure sign of your 
highly-bred man of fashion. 

Max. So a man must, therefore, lose his wife and his 
money with a smile — in fact, everything he possesses but his 
temper. 

Sir H. Exactly; and great ruin with vive la bagatelle! 
Your modish beauty never discomposes the shape of her 
features with convulsive laughter. Scenes are vulgar, hys- 
terics obsolete. {Crosses to left.) 

Max. Well, give me the girl that will fly at your eyes 
in an argument, and stick to her point like a fox to his 
own tail. 

Sir H. But etiquette. Max ! remember etiquette ! 

Max. Damn etiquette ! I have seen a man who thought 
it sacrilege to eat fish with a knife, that would not scruple 
to rob his brother of his birthright. Your thoroughbred 
will seldom kick over the traces of good feeling. That's 
my opinion, and I don't care who knows it. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 9 

Sir H. Pardon me — etiquette is the pulse of society, 
by regulating- which the body politic is retained in health. 
I consider myself one of the faculty in the art. 

Max. Well, well ; you are a living libel upon common 
sense, for you are old enough to know better. 

Sir H. Old enough ! What do you mean ? Old ! I still 
retain all my little juvenile indiscretions, which your niece's 
beauties must teach me to discard. I have not sown my 
wild oats yet. 

Max. Time you did, at sixty-three. 

Sir H. Sixty-three ! Good Heavens ! — forty, 'pon my 
life forty, next March. 

Max. Why, you are older than I am. 

Sir H. Oh ! you are old enough to be my father. 

Max. Well, if I am, I am ; that's etiquette, I suppose. 
Poor Grace! how often have I pitied her fate! That a 
young and beautiful creature should be driven into wretched 
splendor, or miserable poverty ! 

Sir H. Wretched! Lady Courtly wretched! Impos- 
sible ! 

Max. Will she not be compelled to marry you, whether 
she likes you or not? — a choice between you and poverty. 
And hang me if it isn't a tie ! But why do you not introduce 
your son Charles to me ? I have not seen him since he was 
a child. You would never permit him to accept any of my 
invitations to spend his vacation at Oak Hall — of course, 
we shall have the pleasure of his company now. 

Sir H. He is not fit to enter into society yet. He is 
a studious, sober boy. 

Max. Boy! Why, he's five and twenty. 

Sir H. Good gracious ! Max — you will permit me to 
know my own son's age — he is not twenty. 



lO LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Max. I'm dumb. 

Sir H. You will excuse me while I indulge in the 
process of dressing. Cool! 

Enter Cool^ right. 
Prepare my toilet. {Exit Cool, center.) That is a cere- 
mony which, with me, supersedes all others. I consider 
it a duty which every gentleman owes to society, to render 
himself as agreeable an object as possible; and the least 
compliment a mortal can pay to nature, when she honors 
him by bestowing extra care in the manufacture of his per- 
son, is to display her taste to the best possible advantage ; 
and so^ au revoir. {Exit, left.) 

Max. {Sits right of table.) That's a good soul — he has 
his faults, and who has not ? Forty years of age ! Oh, 
monstrous ! — but he does look uncommonly young for sixty, 
spite of his foreign locks and complexion. 

Enter Dazzle_, right. 

Daz. Who's my friend with the stick and gaiters, I 
wonder — one of the family — the governor, may be? 

Max. {Right center.) Who's this? Oh, Charles — is 
that you, my boy? How are you? 

Daz. How are you? 

Max. Your father has just left me. 

Daz. The devil he has. The honor you would confer 
upon me, I must unwillingly disclaim — I am not Mr. 
Courtly. 

Max. I beg pardon — a friend, I suppose ? 

Daz. Oh, a most intimate friend — a friend of years — 
distantly related to the family — one of my ancestors married 
one of his. {Aside.) Adam and Eve. 

Max. Are you on a visit here? 



LONDON ASSURANCE. II 

Daz. Yes ; oh ! yes. 

Max. (Aside.) As a friend of Sir Harcotirt's, I shall 
feel honored by your company at my house, Oak Hall, 
Gloucestershire. 

Daz. Your name is — 

Max. Harkaway — Max Harkaway. 

Daz. Harkaway — let me see — I ought to be related to 
the Harkaways, somehow. 

Max. a wedding- is about to come off — will you take a 
part on the occasion? 

Daz. With pleasure ! any part but that of the husband. 

Max. Have you any previous engagement? 

Daz. I was thinking — eh? why, let me see. Promised 
to meet my tailor to-morrow ; however, I'll postpone that. 
Have you good shooting? 

Max. Shooting! Why, there's no shooting at this time 
of the year. 

Daz. Oh ! I'm in no hurry — I can wait till the season, 
of course. I was only speaking precautionally — you have 
good shooting? 

Max. The best in the country. 

Daz. Make yourself comfortable ! — Say no more — I'm 
your man — wait till you see how I'll murder your preserves. 

Max. Do you hunt? 

Daz. Pardon me — but will you repeat that? (Aside.) 
Delicious and expensive idea ! 

Max. You ride? 

Daz. Anything! Everything! From a blood to a 
broomstick. Only catch me a flash of lightning, and let me 
get on the back of it, and dam'me if I wouldn't astonish 
the elements. 

Max. Ha! ha! 



12 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Daz. I'd put a girdle round about the earth in very con- 
siderably less than forty minutes. 

Max. Ah! ha! 

Daz. No, for then rises up the idol of my great 
adoration. 

Max. Who's that? 

Daz. The bottle — that lends a lustre to the soul ! — When 
the world puts on its night-cap, and extinguishes the sun — 
then comes the bottle ! Oh, mighty wine ! don't ask me to 
apostrophize. Wine and love are the only two indescribable 
things in nature; but I prefer the wine, because its con- 
sequences are not entailed, and are more easily got rid of. 

Max. How so? 

Daz. Love ends in matrimony, wine in soda water. 

Max. Well, I can promise you as fine a bottle as ever 
was cracked. 

Daz. Never mind the bottle, give me the wine. Say 
no more; but, when I arrive, just shake one of my hands, 
and put the key of the cellar into the other, and if I don't 
make myself intimately acquainted with its internal organi- 
zation — well, I say nothing^time will show. 

Max. I foresee some happy days. 

Daz. And I some glorious nights. 

Max. It mustn't be a flying visit. 

Daz. I despise the word — I'll stop a month with you. 

Max. Or a year or two. 

Daz. I'll live and die with you. 

Max. Ha ! ha ! Remember Max Harkaway, Oak Hall, 
Gloucestershire. 

Daz. (Max is going.) Say, holloa! — Tallyho-o-o-o ! 

Max. Yoicks! — Tallyhoa-o-o-o ! — (Exit, left.) 



LONDON ASSUR-\NCE. 1 3 

Daz. There I am — quartered for a couple of years, at 
the least. The old boy wants somebody to ride his horses, 
shoot his game, and keep a restraint on the morals of the 
parish : I'm eligible. What a lucky accident to meet Young 
Courtly last night ! Who could have thought it ? Yester- 
day, I coukl not make certain of a dinner; to-day I would 
flirt with a banquet. 

Enter Young Courtly, right. 

Young C. What infernal row was that? Why {seeing 
Dazzle), are you here still? 

Daz. Yes. Ain't you delighted ? I'll ring, and send the 
servant for my luggage. 

Young C. The devil you will ! Why, you don't mean 
to say you seriously intend to take up a permanent residence 
here? (Rings the bell.) 

Daz. Now, that's a most inhospitable insinuation. 

Young C. Might I ask your name? 

Daz. With a great deal of pleasure — Richard Dazzle, 
late of the Unattached Volunteers, vulgarly entitled the 
Dirty Buffs. 

Enter Martin, left. 

Young C. Then, I have the honor of wishing you a very 
good morning. Martin, show this gentleman the door. 

Daz. If he does, I'll kick Martin out of it. No offense. 
(Exit Martin, left.) Now, sir, permit me to place a 
dioramic view of your conduct before you. After bringing 
you safely home this morning — after indulgently waiting, 
whenever you took a passing fancy to a knocker or bell- 
pull — after conducting a retreat that would have reflected 
honor on Napoleon — you would kick me into the street, like 
3 



14 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

a mangy cur ; and that's what you call gratitude. Now, to 
show you how superior I am to petty malice, I give you 
an unlimited invitation to my house — my country house — 
to remain as long as you please. 

Young C. Your house! 

Daz. Oak Hall, Gloucestershire — fine old place ! — for 
further particulars see road book — that is, it nominally 
belongs to my old friend and relation. Max Harkaway; 
but I'm privileged. Capital old fellow — say, shall we be 
honored ? 

Young C. Sir, permit me to hesitate a moment. 
(Aside.) Let me see; I go back to college to-morrow, so 
I shall not be missing; tradesmen begin to dun — (a noise 
off left, between Martin and Isaacs ; Cool has entered 
center, crosses and goes off left.) I hear thunder; here 
is shelter ready for me. 

Reenter Cool, left. 

Cool. Oh, Mr. Charles, Mr. Solomon Isaacs is in the 
hall, and swears he will remain till he has arrested you ! 

Young C. Does he ! — sorry he is so obstinate — take him 
my compliments, and I will bet him five to one he will not. 

Daz. Double or quits, with my kind regards. 

Cool. But, sir, he has discovered the house in Curzon 
street; he says he is aware the furniture at least belongs 
to you, and he will put a man in immediately. 

Young C. That's awkward — what's to be done? 

Daz. I will give you my acceptance, if it will be of any 
use to you — it is of none to me. 

Young C. No, sir ; but in reply to your most generous 
and kind invitation, if you be in earnest, I shall feel 
delighted to accept it. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 1 5 

Daz. Certainly. 

Young C. Then off we go — through the stables — down 
the Mews, and so slip through my friend's fingers. 

Daz. But, stay, you must do the polite; say farewell 
to him before you part. Damn it, don't cut him! 

Young C. You jest. 

Daz. Here, lend me a card. (Courtly gives him one.) 
Now, then. (Writes.) "Our respects to Mr. Isaacs— sorry 
to have been prevented from seeing him." Ha! ha! 

Young C. Ha! ha! 

Daz. We'll send him up some game. 

Young C. (To Cool.) Don't let my father see him. 

(Exeunt Young Courtly and Dazzle, right.) 

Cool. What's this? "Mr. Charles Courtly, P. P. C, 
returns thanks for obliging inquiries." (Exit, left.) 

End of First Act. 



ACT SECOND 

Scene — The lazvn before Oak Hall, a fine Elisahethan 
mansion; a draiving-room is seen through large French 
windows at the back. Statues^ urns and garden chairs about 
the stage. 

Enter Pert^ through windozv, left, to James, who is 
discovered. 

Pert. James, Miss Grace requests that you will watch 
at the avenue and let her know when the squire's carriage 
is seen on the London road. 

James. I will go to the lodge. 

Pert. How I long to see what kind of a man Sir Har- 
court Courtly is ! They say he is sixty ; so he must be 
old, and consequently ugly. If I were Miss Grace, I would 
rather give up all my fortune and marry the man I liked, 
than go to church with a stuffed eel-skin. But taste is 
everything — she doesn't seem to care whether he is sixty 
or sixteen; jokes at love; prepares for matrimony as she 
would for dinner ; says it is a necessary evil, and what 
can't be cured must be endured. Now, I say this is against 
all nature ; and she is either no woman, or a deeper one 
than I am, if she prefers an old man to a young one. Here 
she comes ! looking as cheerfully as if she was going to 
marry Mr. Jenks ! My Mr. Jenks ! whom nobody won't 
lead to the halter till I have that honor. 

Enter Grace, from the drawing-room, left. 
Grace. Well, Pert! any signs of my uncle yet? 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 17 

Pert. {Left.) No, Miss Grace; but James has gone 
to watch the road. 

Grace. In my uncle's letter he mentions a Mr. Dazzle, 
whom he has invited; so you must prepare a room for 
him. He is some friend of my husband that is to be, and 
my uncle seems to have taken an extraordinary predilection 
for him. Apropos ! I must not forget to have a bouquet for 
the dear old man when he arrives. 

Pert. The dear old man ! Do you mean Sir Harcourt ? 

Grace. La, no! my uncle of course. {Plucking 
fioivers.) What do I care for Sir Harcourt Courtly? 

{Crosses right.) 

Pert. Isn't it odd, Miss, you have never seen your 
intended, though it has been so long since you were 
betrothed ? 

Grace. Not at all; marriage matters are conducted 
now-a-days in a most mercantile manner; consequently, 
a previous acquaintance is by no means indispensable. 
Besides, my prescribed husband has been upon the conti- 
nent for the benefit of his — property. They say a southern 
climate is a great restorer of consumptive estates. 

Pert. Well, Miss, for my own part, I should like to have 
a good look at my bargain before I paid for it; 'specially 
when one's life is the price of the article. But why, ma'm, 
do you consent to marry in this blindman's buff sort of 
manner? What would you think if he were not quite so 
old? 

Grace. I should think he was a little younger. 

Pert. I should like him all the better. 

Grace. That wouldn't I. A young husband might 
expect affection and nonsense, which 'twould be deceit in me 
to render ; nor would he permit me to remain with my uncle. 



1 8 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir Harcourt takes me with the incumbrances on his estate, 
and I shall beg to be left among the rest of the live stock. 

(Crosses left.) 

Pert. Ah, Miss ! but some day you might chance to 
stumble over the man — what could you do then? 

Grace. Do ! beg the man's pardon, and request the man 
to pick me up again. 

Pert. Ah ! you were never in love, Miss. 

Grace. I never was, nor will be, till I am tired of myself 
and common sense. Love is a pleasant scape-goat for a 
little epidemic madness. I must have been inoculated in 
my infancy, for the infection passes over poor me in 
contempt. 

Enter James, left. 

James. Two gentlemen. Miss Grace, have just alighted. 

Grace. Very well, James. (Exit James, left.) Love 
is pictured as a boy ; in another century they will be wiser, 
and paint him as a fool, with cap and bells, without a 
thought above the jingling of his own folly. Now, Pert, 
remember this as a maxim — A woman is always in love 
with one of two things. 

Pert. What are they, Miss? 

Grace. A man, or herself — and I know which is the 
most profitable. (Exit, left.) 

Pert. I wonder what my Jenks would say, if I was to 
ask him. La! here comes Mr. Meddle, his rival, contem- 
porary solicitor, as he calls him — a nasty, prying, ugly 
wretch — what brings him here? He comes puffed with 
some news. (Retires up, right.) 

Enter Meddle_, with a newspaper, left. 



LONDON ASSURANCE, 1 9 

Med. I have secured the only newspaper in the village — 
my character, as an attorney-at-law, depended on the 
monopoly of its information. I took it up by chance, 
when this paragraph met my astonished view: (Reads.) 
"We understand that the contract of marriage so long in 
abeyance on account of the lady's minority, is about to 
be celebrated at Oak Hall, Gloucestershire, the well-known 
and magnificent mansion of Maximilian Harkaway, Esq., 
between Sir Harcourt Courtly, baronet, of fashionable 
celebrity, and Miss Grace Harkaway, niece to the said Mr. 
Harkaway. The preparations are proceeding in the good 
old English style." (5^^^ Pert.) Ah! here is Mrs. Pert; 
couldn't have hit upon a better person. I'll cross-examine 
her — lady's maid to Miss Grace — confidential purloiner of 
second-hand silk — Ah, Mrs. Pert, good-morning; permit 
me to say — and my word as a legal character is not unduly 
considered — I venture to affirm that you look a — quite like 
the — a — 

Pert. (Left.) Law! Mr. Meddle. 

Med. (Right.) Exactly, like the law. 

Pert. Ha! indeed; complimentary, I confess; like the 
law; tedious, prosy, made up of musty paper. You shan't 
have a long suit of me. Good-morning. (Going.) 

Med. Stay, Mrs. Pert ; don't calumniate my calling, or 
disseminate vulgar prejudices. 

Pert. Vulgar ! you talk of vulgarity to me ! you, whose 
sole employment is to sneak about like a pig, snouting out 
the dusthole of society, and feeding upon the bad ends of 
vice ! You miserable specimen of a bad six-and-eightpence ! 

(Follozving him around to right.) 

Med. (Right.) But, Mrs. Pert— 



20 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Pert. {Right center.) Don't but me, sir; I won't be 
butted by any such low fellow. 

Med. This is slander; an action will lie. 

Pert. Let it lie ; lying is your trade. I'll tell you what, 
Mr. Meddle; if I had my will, I would soon put a check 
on your prying propensities. I'd treat you as the farmers 
do inquisitive hogs. 

Med. How ? 

Pert. I would ring your nose. (Exit into house, left.) 

Med. Not much information elicited from that witness. 
Jenks is at the bottom of this. I have very little hesitation 
in saying Jenks is a libellous rascal ; I heard reports that 
he was undermining my character here, through Mrs. Pert. 
Now I'm certain of it. Assault is expensive ; but certainly 
I will put by a small weekly stipendium, until I can afford 
to kick Jenks. 

Daz. (Outside.) Come along; this way! 

Med. Ah ! whom have we here ? Visitors ; I'll address 
them. 

Enter Dazzle, left. 

Daz. Who's this, I wonder; one of the family? I 
must know him. (To Meddle.) Ah! how are ye? 

Med. Quite well. Just arrived ? — ah ! — um ! Might I 
request the honor of knowing whom I address? 

Daz. Richard Dazzle, Esquire ; and you — 

Med. Mark Meddle, attorney-at-law. 

Enter Young Courtly, left. 

Daz. What detained you? 

Young C. My dear fellow, I have just seen such a 
woman — 




A. M. Haktvvell, 191 1. 
as Grace Harkaway. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 21 

Daz. (Aside.) Hush! (Aloud.) Permit me to intro- 
duce you to my very old friend, Meddle. He's a capital 
fellow ; know him. 

Med. (Right.) I feel honored. Who is your friend? 

Daz. Oh, he? What, my friend? Oh! Augustus 
Hamilton. 

Young C. How d'ye do? (Looking off.) There she 
is again ! 

Med. (Looking off.) Why, that is Miss Grace. 

Daz. (Left center.) Of course, Grace. 

Young C. (Center.) I'll go and introduce myself. 

(Dazzle stops him.) 

Daz. (Aside.) What are you about? would you insult 
my old friend Puddle by running away? (Aloud.) I say, 
Puddle, just show my friend the lions, while I say how 
d'ye do to my young friend Grace. (Aside.) Cultivate 
his acquaintance. 

(Exit J I. u. e. Young Courtly looks after him.) 

Med. Mr. Hamilton, might I take the liberty? 

Young C. (Looking off.) Confound the fellow! 

Med. Sir, what did you remark? 

Young C. She's gone! Oh, are you here still, Mr. 
Thingomerry Puddle? 

Med. Meddle, sir, Meddle, in the list of attorneys. 

Young C. Well, Muddle or Puddle, or whoever you 
are, you are a bore. 

Med. (Aside.) How excessively odd! Mrs. Pert said 
I was a pig; now I'm a boar! 

Young C. Mr. Thingamy, will you take a word of 
advice ? 

Med. Feel honored. 



22 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Young C. Get out. 

Med. Do you mean to — I don't understand. 

Young C. Delighted to quicken your apprehension. 
You are an ass. Puddle. 

Med. Ha! ha! another quadruped! Yes; beautiful, 
(Aside.) I wish he'd call me something libellous; but that 
would be too much to expect. (Aloud.) Anything else? 

Young C. Some miserable pettifogging scoundrel ! 

Med. Good! ha! ha! 

Young C. What do you mean by laughing at me? 

Med. Ha ! ha ! excellent ! delicious ! 

Young C. Mr. , are you ambitious of a kicking? 

Med. Very, very — Go on — kick — go on. 

Young C. (Looking off.) Here she comes ! I'll speak 
to her. 

Med. But, sir — sir — 

Young C. Oh, go to the devil! (Runs off, I. u. e.) 

Med. There, there's a chance lost — gone ! I have no 
hesitation in saying that, in another minute, I should have 
been kicked; literally kicked — a legal luxury. Costs, dam- 
ages, and actions rose up like sky-rockets in my aspiring 
soul, with golden tails reaching to the infinity of my hopes. 
(Looking.) They are coming this way; Mr. Hamilton in 
close conversation with Lady Courtly that is to be. Crim, 
Con. Courtly versus Hamilton — damages problematical — 
Meddle, chief witness for plaintiff. I'll take down their 
conversation verbatim. (Retires behind a bush, right.) 

Enter Grace, followed by Young Courtly, /. u. e. 

Grace. (Right.) Perhaps you would follow your 
friend into the dining-room ; refreshment, after your long 
journey, must be requisite. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 23 

Young C. {Left.) Pardon me, madam ; but the lovely 
garden and the loveliness before me is better refreshment 
than I could procure in any dining-room. 

Grace. Ha ! Your company and compliments arrive 
together. 

Young C. I trust that a passing remark will not spoil 
so welcome an introduction as this by offending you. 

Grace. I am not certain that anything you could say 
would offend me. 

Young C. I never meant — 

Grace. I thought not. In turn, pardon me, when I 
request you will commence your visit with this piece 
of information — I consider compliments impertinent, and 
sweetmeat language fulsome. 

Young C. I would condemn my tongue to a Pytha- 
gorean silence, if I thought it could attempt to flatter. 

Grace. It strikes me, sir, that you are a stray bee from 
the hive of fashion; if so, reserve your honey for its proper 
cell. A truce to compliments. — You have just arrived from 
town, I apprehend. 

Young C. This moment I left mighty London, under 
the fever of a full season, groaning with the noisy pulse 
of wealth and the giddy whirling brain of fashion. 
Enchanting, busy London ! how have I prevailed on myself 
to desert you ! Next week the new ballet comes out — 
the week after comes Ascot. Oh ! 

Grace. How agonizing must be the reflection ! 

Young C. Torture ! Can you inform me how you 
manage to avoid suicide here? If there was but an opera, 
even, within twenty miles ! We couldn't get up a rustic 
ballet among the village girls ? No ? — ah ! 



24 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Grace. I am afraid you would find that difficult. How 
I contrive to support life I don't know — it is wonderful — 
but I have not precisely contemplated suicide yet, nor do I 
miss the opera. 

Young C. How can you manage to kill time? 

Grace. I can't. Men talk of killing time, while time 
quietly kills them. I have many employments — this week 
I devote to study and various amusements — next week to 
being married — the following week to repentance, perhaps. 

Young C. Married! 

Grace. You seem surprised ; I believe it is of frequent 
occurrence in the metropolis — is it not ? 

Young C. O, yes, I believe they do it there. Might I 
ask to whom? 

Grace. I have never seen him yet, but he is a gentleman 
who has been strongly recommended to me for the situation 
of husband. 

Young C. You seem to laugh at love. 

Grace. Love ! why the very word is a breathing satire 
upon man's reason — a mania, indigenous to humanity — 
nature's jester, who plays off tricks upon the world, and 
trips up common sense. When I'm in love, I'll wTite an 
almanac, for very lack of wit — prognosticate the sighing 
season — when to beware of tears — about this time expect 
matrimony to be prevalent ! Ha ! ha ! Why should I lay 
out my life in love's bonds upon the bare security of a 
man's word? 

Enter James, left. 

James. The squire, madam, has just arrived, and 
another gentleman with him. (Exit James, left.) 

Grace. (Aside.) My intended, I suppose. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 25 

Young C. I perceive you are one of the railers against 
what is termed the follies of high Hfe. 

Grace. No, not particularly; I deprecate all folly. By 
what prerogative can the west-end mint issue absurdity, 
which, if coined in the east, would be voted vulgar? 

Young C. By a sovereign right — because it has Fash- 
ion's head upon its side, and that stamps it current. 

Grace. Poor Fashion, for how many sins hast thou to 
answer ! The gambler pawns his birthright for fashion — 
the roue steals his friend's wife for fashion — each abandons 
himself to the storm of impulse, calling it the breeze of 
fashion. 

Young C. Pardon me, madam, you wrong yourself to 
rail against your inheritance — the kingdom to which loveli- 
ness and wit attest your title. 

Grace. A mighty realm, forsooth — with milliners for 
ministers, a cabinet of coxcombs, envy for my homage, ruin 
for my revenue — my right of rule depending on the shape 
of a bonnet or the set of a pelisse, with the next grand 
noodle as my heir-apparent. Mr. Hamilton, when I am 
crowned, I shall feel happy to abdicate in your favor. 

{Curtesy and exit into house, left.) 

Young C. What did she mean by that? Hang me if I 
can tmderstand her — she is evidently not used to society. 
Ha! — takes every word I say for infallible truth — requires 
the solution of a compliment, as if it were a problem in 
Euclid. She said she was about to marry, but I rather 
imagine she was in jest. 'Pon my life, I feel very queer 
at the contemplation of such an idea — I'll follow her. 
(Meddle comes dotvn, left.) Oh! perhaps this booby can 
inform me something about her. (Meddle makes signs at 
him.) What the devil is he at? 



26 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Med. It won't do — no — ah ! um — it's not to be done. 

Young C. What do you mean? 

Med. (Points after Grace.) Counsel retained — cause 
to come off. 

Young C. Cause to come off? 

Med. Miss Grace is about to be married. 

Young C. Is it possible? 

Med. Certainly. If I have the drawing out of the 
deeds — 

Young C. To whom? 

Med. Ha ! hem ! Oh, yes ! I dare say — information 
being scarce in the market, I hope to make mine valuable. 

Young C. Married! married! (Pacing the stage.) 

Med. Now I shall have another chance. 

Young C. I'll run and ascertain the truth of this from 
Dazzle. (Exit, left.) 

Med. It's of no use ; he either dare not kick me, or he 
can't afford it — in either case, he is beneath my notice. Ah ! 
who comes here? — can it be Sir Harcourt Courtly himself? 
It can be no other. 

Enter Cool, left. 

Sir, I have the honor to bid you welcome to Oak Hall 
and the village of Oldborough. 

Cool. (Aside.) Excessively polite. (Aloud.) Sir, 
thank you. 

Med. The township contains two thousand inhabitants. 

Cool. Does it? I am delighted to hear it. 

(Crosses right.) 

Med. (Aside.) I can charge him for that — ahem — six 
and eight-pence is not much — but it is a beginning. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 27 

(Aloud.) If you will permit me, I can inform you of the 
different commodities for which it is famous. 

Cool. Much obliged — but here comes Sir Harcourt 
Courtly, my master, and Mr. Harkaway — any other time 
I shall feel delighted. 

Med. Oh! (Aside.) Mistook the man for the master. 

(Retires up, right.) 

Enter Max and Sir Harcourt, left. 

Max. (Center.) Here we are at last. Now give ye 
welcome to Oak Hall, Sir Harcourt, heartily ! 

Sir H. (Left center, languidly.) Cool, assist me. 
(Cool takes off his cloak and gloves; gives him white 
gloves and handkerchief, then places a flower in his coat.) 

Max. Why, you require unpacking as carefully as my 
best bin of port. Well, now you are decanted, tell me what 
did you think of my park as we came along? 

Sir H. That it would never come to an end. You said 
it was only a stone's throw from your infernal lodge to the 
house ; why, it's ten miles, at least. 

Max. I'll do it in ten minutes any day. 

Sir H. Yes, in a steam carriage. Cool, perfume my 
handkerchief. 

Max. Don't do it. Don't! perfume in the country! 
why, it's high treason in the very face of Nature ; 'tis intro- 
ducing the robbed to the robber. Here are the sweets from 
which your fulsome essences are pilfered, and libelled with 
their names; don't insult them, too. 

(Meddle comes dozvn, center.) 

Sir H. (To Meddle.) Oh! cull me a bouquet, my 
man ! 



28 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Max. (Turning.) Ah, Meddle! how are you? This 
is Lawyer Meddle. (Goes up, right.) 

Sir H. Oh ! I took him for one of your people. 

Med. Ah! naturally — um — Sir Harcourt Courtly, I 
have the honor to congratulate — happy occasion approaches. 
Ahem ! I have no hesitation in saying this z'cry happy 
occasion approaches. 

Sir H. Cool, is the conversation addressed towards me ? 

Cool, (Left.) I believe so, Sir Harcourt. 

Med. (Center.) Oh, certainly! I was compHmenting 
you. 

Sir H. Sir, you are very good; the honor is unde- 
served ; but I am only in the habit of receiving compliments 
from the fair sex. Men's admiration is so damnably insipid. 
(Crosses to Max, who is seated on bench, left.) 

Med. I had hoped to make a unit on that occasion. 

Sir H. Yes, and you hoped to put an infernal number 
of cyphers after your unit on that and any other occasion. 

Med. Ha ! ha ! very good. Why, I did hope to have 
the honor of drawing out the deeds ; for, whatever Jenks 
may say to the contrary, I have no hesitation in saying — 

Sir H. (Flitting him aside; to Max.) If the future 
Lady Courtly be visible at so unfashionable an hour as this, 
I shall beg to be introduced. 

Max. Visible ! Ever since six this morning, I'll warrant 
ye. Two to one she is at dinner. 

Sir H. Dinner ! Is it possible ? Lady Courtly dine at 
half-past one p. m. ? 

Med. (Down left.) I rather prefer that hour to peck 
a little my — 

Sir H. Dear me ! who was addressing you ? 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 29 

Med. Oh ! I beg pardon. 
Max. Here, James! (Calling.) 

Enter James, left. 

Tell Miss Grace to come here directly. (Exit James, into 
house, left.) Now prepare, Courtly, for, though I say it, 
she is — with the exception of my bay mare, Kitty — the 
handsomest thing in the country. Considering she is a 
biped, she is a wonder ! Full of blood, sound wind and 
limb, plenty of bone, sweet coat, in fine condition, with a 
thoroughbred step, as dainty as a pet greyhound. 

Sir H. Damme, don't compare her to a horse ! 

Max. Well, I wouldn't, but she's almost as fine a crea- 
ture — close similarities. 

Med. Oh, very fine creature ! Close similarity, amount- 
ing to identity. 

Sir H. Good gracious, sir! What can a lawyer know 
about women? 

Med. Everything. The consistorial court is a fine study 
of the character, and I have no hesitation in saying that I 
have examined more women than Jenks, or — 

Sir H. Oh, damn Jenks ! 

Med. Sir, thank you. Damn him again, sir, damn him 
again ! 

Enter Grace, from house, left. 

Grace. (Runs to him.) My dear uncle! 
Max. Ah, Grace, you little jade, come here. 
Sir H. (Eyeing her through his glass.) Oh, dear! she 
is a rural Venus ! 

Max. Won't you kiss your old uncle? (Kisses her.) 
4 



30 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. (Drazvs an agonising face.) Oh! — ah — um! — 
N'importe! — my privilege in embryo — hem! It's very 
tantalizing, though. 

Max. You are not glad to see me, you are not. 

{Kissing her again.) 
Sir H. I should be sorry to curtail any little ebullition 
of affection; but — ahem! May I be permitted? 

Max. Of course you may. There, Grace, is Sir Har- 
court, your husband that will be. Go to him, girl. 

(She courtsies.) 

Sir H. Permit me to do homage to the charms, the 

presence of which have placed me in sight of Paradise. 

(Sir Harcourt and Grace retire.) 

Enter Dazzle, left. 

Daz. Ah! old fellow, how are you? {Crosses to Max.) 
Max. (Right center.) I'm glad to see you. Are you 

comfortably quartered yet, eh? 

Daz. Splendidly quartered! What a place you've got 

here ! Here, Hamilton. 

Enter Young Courtly, from house, dozvn right. 

Permit me to introduce my friend, Augustus Hamilton. 
Capital fellow ! drinks like a sieve, and rides like a thunder- 
storm. 

Max. (Right center.) Sir, I'm devilish glad to see you. 
Here, Sir Harcourt, permit me to introduce to you — 

(Goes up to Sir Harcourt.) 

Young C. The devil! 

Daz. (Aside.) What's the matter? 

Young C. (Aside.) Why, that is my governor, by 
Jupiter ! 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 3 1 

Daz. (Aside.) What, old Whiskers! you don't say 
that? 

Young C. (Aside.) It is; what's to be done now? 

Max. (Advancing, center.) Mr. Hamilton, Sir Har- 
court Courtly — Sir Harcourt Courtly, Mr. Hamilton. 

Sir H. (Advancing, left center.) Hamilton! Bless 
me! Why, Charles, is it possible — why, Max, that's my 
son! 

Young C. (Aside.) What shall I do? 

Max. Your son? 

Grace. Your son. Sir Harcourt ! have you a son as old 
as that gentleman? 

Sir H. No — that is — a — yes, — not by twenty years — a 
— ^Charles, why don't you answer me, sir? 

Young C. (Aside to Dazzle.) What shall I say? 

Daz. (Aside.) Deny your identity. 

Young C. (Aside.) Capital! (Aloud.) What's the 
matter, sir? 

Sir H. How came you down here, sir? 

Young C. By one of Newman's best fours — in twelve 
hours and a quarter. 

Sir H. Isn't your name Charles Courtly? 

Young C. Not to my knowledge. 

Sir H. Do you mean to say that you are usually called 
Augustus Hamilton? 

Young C. Lamentable fact — and quite correct. 

Sir H. Cool, is that my son? 

Cool. (Left.) No, sir — it is not Mr. Charles — but it 
is very like him. 

Max. I cannot understand all this. (Goes up.) 

Grace. (Aside.) I think I can. (Goes up.) 



32 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Daz. (Aside to Young C.) Give him a touch of the 
indignant. 

Young C. (Crosses right center.) Allow me to say, 
Sir What-d'ye-call-em-Hartly — 

Sir H. Hartly, sir ! Courtly, sir ! Courtly ! 

Young C. Well, Hartly, or Court-heart, or whatever 
your name may be, I say your conduct is — a — a — , and were 
it not for the presence of this lady, I should feel inclined 
— to— to— 

Sir H. No, no, that, can't be my son, — he never would 
address me in that way. 

Max. (Coming dozvn.) What is all this? 

Sir H. Sir, your likeness to my son Charles is so aston- 
ishing, that it, for a moment — the equilibrium of my eti- 
quette — 'pon my life, I — permit me to request your pardon. 

Med. (Left.) Sir Harcourt, don't apologize, don't — 
bring an action. I'm witness. 

Sir H. Some one take this man away. 

(Meddle goes up stage zvith Cool.) 

Enter James, from house, left. 

James. Luncheon is on the table, sir. 

Sir H. Miss Harkaway, I never swore before a lady in 
my life — except when I promised to love and cherish the 
late Lady Courtly, which I took care to preface with an 
apology, — I was compelled to the ceremony, and con- 
sequently not answerable for the language — ^but to that 
gentleman's identity I would have pledged — my hair. 

Grace. (Aside.) If that security were called for, I 
suspect the answer would be — no effects. 

(Exeunt Sir Harcourt mid Grace, left.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 33 

Med. {To Max.) I have something very particular to 
communicate. 

Max. Can't listen at present. {Exit, left, into house.) 

Med. {To Dazzle and Young C.) I can afford you 
information, which I — 

Daz. Oh, don't bother! 

Young C. Go to the devil. 

{Exeunt left, into house.) 

Med. Now, I have no hesitation in saying that is the 
height of ingratitude. — Oh — Mr. Cool — can you oblige me? 

{Presents his account.) 

Cool. {Right.) Why, what is all this? 

Med. Small account versus you — to giving information 
concerning the last census of the population of Oldborough 
and vicinity, six and eightpence. 

Cool. Oh, you mean to make me pay for this, do you? 

Med. Unconditionally. 

Cool. Well, I have no objection — the charge is fair — 
but remember, I am a servant on board wages, — will you 
throw in a little advice, gratis — if I give you the money? 

Med. Ahem! — I will. 

Cool. A fellow has insulted me. I want to abuse him — 
what terms are actionable? 

Med. You may call him anything you please, providing 
there are no witnesses. 

Cool. Oh, may I? {Looks around.) Then you rascally, 
pettifogging scoundrel! 

Med. Hello! {Retreats to right.) 

Cool. {Following him.) You mean — dirty — disgrace 
to your profession. 

Med. Libel — slander — 



34 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Cool, (Going up left; turns.) Ay, but where are your 
witnesses ? 

Med. Give me the costs — six and eightpence. 

Cool. I deny that you gave me the information at all. 

Med. You do! 

Cool. Yes, where are your witnesses? 

{Exit into house, left.) 
Med. Ah — damme. I'm done at last! 

{Exit into house, left.) 

End of Act Second. 



ACT THIRD 

Scene — A morning room in Oak Hall, French windows 
opening to the lawn. Max and Sir Harcourt seated on 
one side, Dazzle on the other; Grace and Young Courtly 
playing chess at back. All dressed for dinner. 

Max. {Aside to Sir Harcourt.) What can I do? 

Sir H. Get rid of them civilly. 

Max. What, turn them out, after I particularly invited 
them to stay a month or two? 

Sir H. Why, they are disreputable characters ; as for 
that young fellow, in whom my Lady Courtly appears so 
particularly absorbed — I am bewildered — I have written to 
town for my Charles, my boy — it certainly is the most 
extraordinary likeness — 

Daz. Sir Harcourt, I have an idea — 

Sir H. Sir, I am delighted to hear it. {Aside to Max.) 
That fellow is a swindler. 

Max. I met him at your house. 

Sir H. Never saw him before in all my life. 

Daz. {Crossing to Sir Harcourt.) I will bet you five 
to one that I can beat you three out of four games of bil- 
liards, with one hand. 

Sir H. No, sir. 

Daz. I don't mind giving you ten points in fifty. 

Sir H. Sir, I never gamble. 

Daz. You don't ! Well, I'll teach you — easiest thing in 
life — you have every requisite — good temper. 



^6 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. I have not, sir. 

Daz. a long-headed, knowing old buck. 

Sir H. Sir! 

(They go up, conversing with Max, center.) 

Grace. Really, Mr. Hamilton, you improve. A young 
man pays us a visit, as you half intimate, to escape incon- 
venient friends — that is complimentary to us, his hosts. 

Young C. Nay, that is too severe. 

Grace. After an acquaintanceship of two days, you sit 
down to teach me chess and domestic economy at the 
same time. Might I ask where you graduated in that 
science — where you learned all that store of matrimonial 
advice which you have obliged me with? 

(They come forivard.) 

Young C. I imbibed it, madam, from the moment I 
beheld you, and having studied my subject con amove, took 
my degree from your eyes. 

Grace. Oh, I see you are a Master of Arts already. 

Young C. Unfortunately, no — I shall remain a bachelor 
— till you can assist me to that honor. 

(Sir Harcourt rises.) 

Daz. {Aside, right.) How do you get on? 

Young C. {Aside.) Splendidly! Keep the old boy 
away! 

Sir H. {Going to them.) Is the conversation strictly 
confidential? — or might I join? 

Daz. {Taking his arm.) Oh, not in the least, my dear 
sir — we were remarking that rifle shooting was an excellent 
diversion during the summer months. 

Sir H. {Drawing himself up.) Sir, I was addressing — 

Daz. And I was saying what a pity it was I couldn't 
find any one reasonable enough to back his opinion with 




W. DeF. Manice, 1911, H. T. Warren, 1910, A. M. Hartwell, 1911, 
as Charles Courtly. as Dazzle. as Grace Harkaivay. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 37 

long odds — come out on the lawn, and pitch up your hat, 
and I will hold you ten to one I put a bullet into it every 
time, at forty paces. 

Sir H. No, sir — I consider you — 

Max. (At window.) Here, all of you — look, here is 
Lady Gay Spanker coming- across the lawn at a hand 
gallop ! 

Sir H. {Running to ivindoiv.) Bless me, the horse is 
running away! 

Max. Look how she takes that fence ! there's a seat. 

Sir H. (Comes down, left center.) Lady Gay Spanker 
— who may she be? 

Grace. (Down center.) Gay Spanker, Sir Harcourt? 
My cousin and dearest friend — you must like her. 

Sir H. It will be a hard task in your presence. 

Grace. I am sure she will like you. 

Sir H. Ha! ha! I flatter myself. 

Young C. Who, and what is she? 

Grace. Glee, glee, made a living thing — Nature, in some 
frolic mood, shut up a merry devil in her eye, and, spiting 
Art, stole Joy's brightest harmony to thrill her laugh, which 
peals out sorrow's knell. Her cry rings loudest in the 
field — the very echo loves it best, and as each hill attempts 
to ape her voice. Earth seems to laugh that it made a thing 
so glad. 

Max. (Left.) Ay, the merriest minx I ever kissed. 

(Lady Gay laughs without.) 

Lady Gay. (Without.) Max! 

Max. Come in, you mischievous puss. 

Enter James, right. 



38 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

James. Mr. Adolphus and Lady Gay Spanker. (Exit.) 
Enter Lady Gay, right, fully equipped in riding habit, etc. 

Lady G. Ha! ha! Well, governor, how are ye? How 
are you, Grace, dear? (Kisses her.) There, don't fidget. 
Max. And there — (kisses him, right center) there's one 
for you. 

Sir H. (Left.) Ahem! 

Lady G. (Center.) Oh, gracious, I didn't see you had 
visitors. 

Max. (Right.) Permit me to introduce — (crosses 
center) Sir Harcourt Courtly, Lady Gay Spanker. Mr. 
Dazzle, Mr. Hamilton — Lady Gay Spanker. 

Sir H. (Aside.) A devilish fine woman! 

Daz. (Aside to Sir Harcourt.) She's a devilish fine 
woman. 

Lady G. You mustn't think anything of the liberties I 
take with my old papa here — bless him ! 

(Kisses him again.) 

Sir H. Oh, no! (Aside.) I only thought I should like 
to be in his place. 

Lady G. I am so glad you have come, Sir Harcourt. 
Now we shall be able to make a decent figure at the heels 
of a hunt. 

Sir H. Does your ladyship hunt? 

Lady G. Ha! I say, governor, does my ladyship hunt? 
I rather flatter myself that I do hunt! Why, Sir Harcourt, 
one might as well live without laughing as without hunting. 
It's indigenous to humanity. Man was formed expressly 
to fit a horse. Are not hedges and ditches created for leaps ? 
Of course ! And I look upon foxes to be one of the most 
blessed dispensations of a benign Providence. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 39 

Sir H. Yes, it is all very well in the abstract; I tried 
it once. 

Lady G. Once ! Only once ? 

Sir H. Once, only once. And then the animal ran away 
with me. 

Lady G. Why, you would not have him Avalk? 

Sir H. Finding my society disagreeable, he instituted 
a series of kicks, with a view to removing the annoyance; 
but aided by the united stays of the mane and tail, I frus- 
trated his intentions. (All laugh.) His next resource, 
however, was more effectual, for he succeeded in rubbing 
me off against a tree. 

Max and Lady G. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Daz. How absurd you must have looked with your legs 
and arms in the air, like a shipwrecked tea-table. 

Sir H. Sir, I never looked absurd in my Hfe. Ah, it 
may be very amusing in relation, I dare say, but very 
unpleasant in effect. 

Lady G. I pity you. Sir Harcourt; it was criminal in 
your parents to neglect your education so shamefully. 

Sir H. Possibly; but be assured, I shall never break 
my neck awkwardly from a horse, when it might be accom- 
plished with less trouble from a bedroom window. 

Young C. (Right, aside.) My dad will be caught by 
this she Bucephalus tamer. 

Max. Ah ! Sir Harcourt, had you been here a month 
ago, you would have witnessed the most glorious run that 
ever swept over merry England's green cheek — a steeple- 
chase, sir, which I intended to win, but my horse broke down 
the day before. I had a chance, notwithstanding, and but 
for Gay here, I should have won. How I regretted my 
absence from it! How did my filly behave herself. Gay? 



4° LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Lady G. Gloriously, Max ! gloriously ! There were 
sixteen horses in the field, all mettle to the bone ; the start 
was a picture — away we went in a cloud — pell mell — helter- 
skelter — the fools first, as usual, using themselves up — we 
soon passed them — first your Kitty, then my Blueskin, and 
Craven's colt last. Then came the tug — Kitty skimmed the 
walls — Blueskin flew over the fences — the colt neck-and- 
neck, and half a mile to run — at last the colt baulked a leap 
and went wild. Kitty and I had it all to ourselves — she 
was three lengths ahead as we breasted the last wall, six 
feet, if an inch, and a ditch on the other side. Now, for 
the first time, I gave Blueskin his head — ha! ha! Away 
he flew like a thunderbolt — over went the filly — I over the 
same spot, leaving Kitty in the ditch — walked the steeple, 
eight miles in thirty minutes, and scarcely turned a hair. 

(Crosses right and left center.) 

All. Bravo ! Bravo ! 

Lady G. (Left center.) Do you hunt? 

Daz. (Left.) Hunt! I belong to a hunting family. I 
was born on horseback and cradled in a kennel ! Ay, and 
I hope I may die with a whoo- whoop ! 

Max. (To Sir Harcourt.) You must leave your 
town habits in the smoke of London ; here we rise with the 
lark. 

Sir H. Haven't the remotest conception when that 
period is. 

Grace. (Center.) The man that misses sunrise loses 
the sweetest part of his existence. 

Sir H. Oh, pardon me ; I have seen sunrise frequently 
after a ball, or from the windows of my travelling carriage, 
and I always considered it excessively disagreeable. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 41 

Grace. I love to watch the first tear that gUstens in the 
opening eye of morning, the silent song the flowers breathe, 
the thrilling choir of the woodland minstrels, to which 
the modest brook trickles applause ; these swelling out the 
sweetest chord of sweet creation's matins, seem to pour 
some soft and merry tale into the daylight's ear, as if the 
waking world had dreamed a happy thing, and now smiled 
o'er the telling of it. 

Sir H. The effect of a rustic education! Who could 
ever discover music in a damp foggy morning, except those 
confounded waits, who never play in tune, and a miserable 
wretch who makes a point of crying coffee under my 
window just as I am persuading myself to sleep: in fact, 
I never heard any music worth listening to, except in Italy. 

Lady G. No? then you never heard a well-trained 
English pack in full cry ! 

Sir H. Full cry ! 

Lady G. Ay! there is harmony, if you will. Give me 
the trumpet-neigh; the spotted pack just catching scent. 
What a chorus is their yelp ! The view-hallo, blent with a 
peal of free and fearless mirth ! That's our old English 
music — match it where you can. 

Sir H. {Left center, aside.) I must see about Lady 
Gay Spanker. 

Daz. {Left, aside to Sir Harcourt.) Ah, would you — 

Lady G. Time then appears as young as love, and 
plumes as swift a wing. Away we go! The earth flies 
back to aid our course ! Horse, man, hound, earth, heaven ! 
— all — all — one piece of glowing ecstacy ! Then I love the 
world myself, and every living thing — my jocund soul cries 
out for very glee, as it could wish that all creation had 
but one mouth, that I might kiss it ! {Goes up, center.) 



42 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. (Aside.) I wish I were the mouth! 

Max. Why, we will regenerate you, Baronet! 

Daz. (Clapping his shoulder.) Ay, we'll regenerate 
you! (Sir H. angrily goes up and gets around to right.) 

Max. But Gay, where is your husband? Where is 
Adolphus ? 

Lady G. (Coming down.) Bless me, where is my 
Dolly? 

Sir H. You are married, then? 

Lady G. I have a husband somewhere, though I can't 
find him just now. (Calls.) Dolly, dear! (Aside to 
Max.) Governor, at home I always whistle when I want 
him. 

Enter Spanker^ r. u. e.; Grace ayid Max meet him and 
shake hands. 

Spanker, Here I am — did you call me. Gay? 

Sir H. (Eyeing him.) Is that your husband? 

Lady G. (Aside.) Yes, bless his stupid face, that's 
my Dolly, 

Max, Permit me to introduce you to Sir Harcourt 
Courtly. 

Span. How d'ye do ? I — ah ! — um ! 

(Appears frightened.) 

Lady G. (Gets behind him, left center.) Delighted to 
have the honor of making the acquaintance of a gentleman 
so highly celebrated in the world of fashion. 

Span. Oh, yes, delighted, I'm sure — quite — very, so 
delighted — delighted ! 

(Gets quite confused, drazvs on his glove and tears it.) 

Lady G. Where have you been, Dolly? 

Span, Oh, ah, I was just outside. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 43 

Max. Why did you not come in? 

Span. I'm sure I didn't — I don't exactly know, but I 
thought as — perhaps — I can't remember. 

Daz. Shall we have the pleasure of your company to 
dinner? 

Span. I always dine — usually — that is, unless Gay 
remains — 

Lady G. Stay to dinner, of course ; we came on purpose 
to stop three or four days. 

Grace. Will you excuse my absence. Gay? 

Max. What! what! Where are you going? What 
takes you away? 

Grace. We must postpone the dinner till Gay is dressed. 

Max, Oh, never mind, — stay where you are. 

Grace. No. I must go. 

Max. I say you shan't ! I will be king in my own house. 

Grace. Do, my dear uncle (crosses) ; you shall be king, 
and I'll be your prime minister, — that is, I'll rule, and you 
shall have the honor of taking the consequences. 

(Exit, left.) 

Lady G. Well said, Grace ; have your own way, it is 
the only thing we women ought to be allowed. 

Max. Come, Gay, dress for dinner. 

Sir H. (Right.) Permit me. Lady Gay Spanker. 

Lady G. (Center.) With pleasure, — what do you 
want? 

Sir H. To escort you. 

Lady G. Oh, never mind, I can escort myself, thank 
you, and Dolly too ; come, dear ! (Exit, right.) 

Sir H. Au revoir! 

Span. Ah! thank you! (Exit, awkwardly, right.) 

Sir H. What an ill-assorted pair I 



44 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Max. Not a bit ! She married him for freedom, and she 
has it; he married her for protection, and he has it. 

Sir H. How he ever summoned courag-e to propose to 
her, I can't guess. 

Max. {Takes his arm.) Bless you, he never did. She 
proposed to him. She says he would if he could ; but as 
he couldn't, she did it for him. 

{Exeunt Max and Sir H., laughing, through zvindow, 
right. ) 

Enter Cool zvith letter, left. 

Cool. {Left.) Mr. Charles, I have been watching to 
find you alone. Sir Harcourt has written to town for you. 

Young C. The devil he has! 

Cool. He expects you down to-morrow evening. 

Daz. {Center.) Oh! he'll be punctual. A thought 
strikes me. 

Young C. Pooh! Confound your thoughts! I can 
think of nothing but the idea of leaving Grace, at the very 
moment when I had established the most — 

Daz. What if I can prevent her marriage with your 
governor ? 

Young C. Impossible ! 

Daz. He's pluming himself for the conquest of Lady 
Gay Spanker. It will not be difficult to make him believe 
she accedes to his suit. And if she would but join in the 
plan — 

Young C. And do you think she would? 

Daz. I mistake my game if she would not. 

Cool. Here comes Sir Harcourt ! 

Daz. I'll begin with him. Retire, and watch how I'll 
open the campaign for you. 

(Young Courtly and Cool retire.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 45 

Enter Sir Harcourt, by windoiv, right. 

Sir H. Here is that cursed fellow again. 

Daz. Ah, my dear old friend! 

Sir H. Mr. Dazzle! 

Daz. I have a secret of importance to disclose to you. 
Are you a man of honor? Hush! don't speak; you are. 
It is with the greatest pain I am compelled to request you, 
as a gentleman, that you will shun studiously the society 
of Lady Gay Spanker ! 

Sir H. Good gracious ! and by what right do you 
make such a demand? 

Daz. Why, I am distantly related to the Spankers. 

Sir H. Why, hang it, sir, if you don't appear to be 
related to every family in Great Britain ! 

Daz. a good many of the nobility claim me as a con- 
nection. But, to return — she is much struck with your 
address ; evidently, she laid herself out for display — 

Sir H. Ha ! you surprise me ! 

Daz. To entangle you. 

Sir H. Ha! ha! why, it did appear like it. 

Daz. You will spare her for my sake ; give her no 
encouragement; if disgrace come upon my relatives, the 
Spankers, I should never hold up my head again. 

Sir H. {Aside.) I shall achieve an easy conquest. 
Ha ! ha ! I never remarked it before, but this is a gentle- 
man. 

Daz. May I rely on your generosity ? 

Sir H. Faithfully. {Shakes his hand.) Sir, I honor 
and esteem you ; but, might I ask, how came you to meet 
our friend. Max Harkaway, in my house? 

Daz. Certainly. I had an acceptance of your son's for 
one hundred pounds. 
5 



46 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. (Astonished.) Of my son's? Impossible. 

Daz. Ah, sir, fact! he paid a debt for a poor unfortu- 
nate man — fifteen children — half-a-dozen wives — the devil 
knows what all. 

Sir H. Simple boy. 

Daz. Innocent youth, I have no doubt; when you have 
the hundred convenient, I shall feel delig-hted. 

Sir H. Oh ! follow me to my room, and if you have the 
document, it will be happiness to me to pay it. Poor 
Charles ! good heart ! 

Daz. Oh, a splendid heart! I dare say. 

(Exit Sir Harcourt, left.) 
Come here; bring your splendid heart here and write me 
the bill. 

Young C. (Right, at table.) What for? 

Daz. What for? why, to release the unfortunate man 
and his family, to be sure, from jail. 

Young C. Who is he? 

Daz. Yourself. 

Young C. But I haven't fifteen children! Nor four 
wives. 

Daz. More shame for you, with all that family. Come, 
don't be obstinate; write and date it back. 

Young C. Ay, but where is the stamp? 

Daz. Here they are, of all patterns. (Pulls out a 
pocket-book.) I keep them ready drawn in case of neces- 
sity, all but the date and acceptance. Now, if you are 
in an autographic humor, you can try how your signature 
will look across half-a-dozen of them ; — there — write — 
exactly — you know the place — across — good — and thank 
your lucky stars that you have found a friend at last, that 
gives you money and advice. (Takes paper.) I'll give the 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 47 

old gentleman this, and then you can relieve the necessities 
of your fifteen little unfortunates. (Exit left.) 

Young C. Things are approaching to a climax ; I must 
appear in propria persona — and immediately — but I must 
first ascertain what are the real sentiments of this riddle of 
a woman. Does she love me? I flatter myself — by Jove 
here she comes — I shall never have such an opportunity 
again! (Retires up, right.) 

Enter Grace, left. 

Grace. I wish I had never seen Mr. Hamilton. Why 
does every object appear robbed of the charm it once pre- 
sented to me? Why do I shudder at the contemplation of 
this marriage, which, till now, was to me a subject of indif- 
ference? (Crosses, right.) Am I in love? In love! if 
I am, my past life has been the work of raising up a 
pedestal to place my own folly on — I — the infidel — the 
railer ! 

Young C. (Advancing, left.) Meditating upon matri- 
mony, madam? 

Grace. (Aside.) He little thinks he was the subject 
of my meditations! (Aloud.) No, Mr. Hamilton, I — 

Grace. (Aside.) I must appear at ease. (A pause.) 

Young C. Eh? ah! um! 

Grace. Ah! (They sink into silence again; aside.) 
How very awkward ! 

Young C. Madam — ahem — there was — is — I mean — I 
was about to remark — (Aside.) Why, I have made love 
before to a hundred women ! 

Grace. (Aside.) I wish I had something to do, for I 
have nothing to say. 



48 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Young C. Madam — there is — a subject so fraught with 
fate to my future life, that you must pardon my lack of 
delicacy should a too hasty expression mar the fervent 
courtesy of its intent. (Pause.) To you, I feel aware, I 
must appear in the light of a comparative stranger. Of 
you — I know perhaps too much for my own peace. 

Grace. (Aside.) He is in love. 

Young C. I forget all that befell before I saw your 
beauteous self; I seem born into another world — my nature 
changed — the beams of that bright face falling on my soul, 
have, from its chaos, warmed into life the flowrets of affec- 
tion, whose maiden odors now float toward the sun, pouring 
forth on their pure tongue a mite of adoration, midst the 
voices of a universe. (Aside.) That's something in her 
own style. 

Grace. Mr. Hamilton ! 

Young C. You cannot feel surprised — 

Grace. I am more than surprised. 

Young C. Do not speak so coldly. 

Grace. You have offended me. 

Young C. No, madam ; no woman, whatever her state, 
can be offended by the adoration even of the meanest ; it 
is myself whom I have offended and deceived — ^but still I 
ask your pardon. 

Grace. (Aside.) Oh! he thinks I am refusing him. 
(Aloud.) I am not exactly offended, but — 

Young C. Consider my position — a few days, and an 
unsurmountable barrier would have placed you beyond my 
wildest hopes — you would have been my mother. 

(He starts up, annoyed at having betrayed himself.) 

Grace. I should have been your mother! (Aside.) I 
thought so. 



LONDON ASSURANCE, 49 

Young C. No — that is, I meant Sir Harcourt Courtly's 
bride. 

Grace. (With great emphasis.) Never! 

Young C. How! never! may I then hope? — you turn 
away — you would not lacerate me by a refusal? 

Grace. (Aside.) How stupid he is! 

Young C. Still silent! I thank you, Miss Grace — I 
ought to have expected this — fool that I have been — one 
course alone remains — farewell ! 

Grace. (Aside.) Now he's going. 

Young C. Farewell forever! (Sits.) Will you not 
speak one word? I shall leave this house immediately — I 
shall not see you again. 

Grace. Unhand me, sir, I insist. 

Young C. (Aside.) Oh! what an ass I've been! 
(Rushes up to her and seises her hand.) Release this hand ? 
Never! never! (Kissing it.) Never will I quit this hand ! 
it shall be my companion in misery — in solitude — when you 
are far away. 

Grace. Oh ! should any one come ! (Drops her hand- 
kerchief; he stoops to pick it up.) For Heaven's sake do 
not kneel. Should we be discovered thus — pray, Mr. Ham- 
ilton — pray — pray. 

Young C. Pray ! I am praying ; what more can I do ? 

Grace. Your conduct is shameful. 

Young C. It is. (Rises.) 

Grace. And if I do not scream, it is not for your sake — 
that — but it might alarm the family. 

Young C. It might — it would. Say, am I wholly indif- 
ferent to you ? I entreat one word — I implore you — do not 
withdraw your hand. (She snatches it away — he puts his 
arm around her ivaist.) You smile. 



5° LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Grace. Leave me, dear Mr. Hamilton ! 
Young C. Dear! Then I am dear to you; that word 
once more ; say — say you love me ! 
Grace. Is this fair? 

{He catches her in his arms and kisses her.) 

Enter Lady Gay Spanker, right. 

Lady G. Ha! oh! {Exit Grace, left.) 

Young C. The devil! 

Lady G. Don't mind me — pray, don't let me be any 
interruption ! 

Young C. I was just — 

Lady G. Yes, I see you were. I always like to be in 
at the death. Never drop your ears; bless you, she's only 
a little fresh — give her her head, and she will outrun herself. 

Young C. Possibly ; but what am I to do ? 

Lady G. Keep your seat. 

Young C. But in a few days she will take a leap that 
must throw me — she marries Sir Harcourt Courtly. 

Lady G. Why, that is awkward, certainly ; but you 
can challenge him, and shoot him. 

Young C. Unfortunately that is out of the question. 

Lady G. How so? 

Young C. You will not betray a secret, if I inform you? 

Lady G. All right — what is it? 

Young C. I am his son. 

Lady G. What — his son ? But he does not know you ? 

Young C. No; I met him here by chance, and faced 
it out, I never saw him before in my life. 

Lady G. Beautiful! I see it all — you're in love with 
your mother that should be — your wife, that will be. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 51 

Young C. Now, I think I could distance the old gentle- 
man, if you will but lend us your assistance. 

Lady G. I will, in anything. 

Young C. You must know, then, that my father. Sir 
Harcourt, has fallen desperately in love with you. 

Lady G. With me! (Utters a scream of delight.) 
That is delicious ! 

Young C. Now, if you only could — 

Lady G. Could ! — I will ! Ha ! ha ! I see my cue, I'll 
cross his scent — I'll draw him after me. Ho! ho! won't 
I make love to him ? Ha ! 

Young C. The only objection might be Mr. Spanker, 
who might — 

Lady G. No, he mightn't; he has no objection. Bless 
him — you don't know him as well as I do. I dare say — ha! 
ha! (Dinner bell rings.) Here they come to dinner. I'll 
commence my operations on your governor immediately. 
Ha! ha! how I shall enjoy it. 

Young C. Be guarded! 

Enter Max Harkaway, right; Sir Harcourt, left; 
•Dazzle^ right; Grace and Spanker, left. 

Max. Now, gentlemen — Sir Harcourt, do you lead 
Grace. 

Lady G. I believe Sir Harcourt is engaged to me. 

(Takes his arm.) 

Max. Well, please yourselves. 

They file out, left. Max first, Young Courtly and Grace 
Sir Harcourt coquetting with Lady Gay, leaving Dazzle, 
who offers his arm to Spanker, and zvalks on. Spanker 
runs after him, trying to take it. 

End of Act Third. 



ACT FOURTH 

Scene — Same as Act Third. Grace and Lady Gay, 
discovered drinking coffee. 

Grace. (Ow ottoman, center.) If there be one habit 
more abominable than another, it is that of the gentlemen 
sitting over their wine ; it is a selfish, unfeeling fashion, 
and a gross insult to our sex. 

Lady G. (Right.) We are turned out just when the 
fun begins. How happy the poor wretches look at the con- 
templation of being rid of us. 

Grace. The conventional signal for the ladies to with- 
draw is anxiously and deliberately waited for. 

Lady G. Then I begin to wish I were a man. 

Grace. The instant the door is closed upon us, there 
rises a roar ! 

Lady G. In celebration of their short-lived liberty, my 
love; rejoicing over their emancipation. 

Grace. I think it very insulting, whatever it may be. 

Lady G. Ah ! my dear, philosophers say that man is 
the creature of an hour — it is the dinner hour, I suppose. 

Daz. (Without.) A song, a song! (Voices as if in 
approval of the proposition, knocking on table, etc. 
"Bravo !" at back. Enter Servant, left, to take coffee cups 
from Lady Gay and Grace.) 

Grace. I am afraid they are getting too pleasant to be 
agreeable. 




H. Obernauer, igio, 
as 3[ax Harkaivay. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 53 

Lady G. I hope the squire will restrict himself ; after 
his third bottle he becomes rather voluminous. (Cries of 
''Silence.") Some one is going to sing. (Jumps up.) Let 
us hear! (Spanker is heard to sing "A Southerly Wind 
and a Cloudy Sky"; after verse, chorus.) 

Grace. Oh, no, Gay, for Heaven's sake ! 

Lady G. Oho! ha! ha! why that is my Dolly. (At 
the conclusion of the verse.) Well, I never heard my Dolly 
sing before ! Happy wretches, how I envy them ! 

Enter James^ left, with a note. 

James. Mr. Hamilton has just left the house for 
London. 

Grace. Impossible ! — that is, without seeing — ^that is — 

Lady G. Ha ! ha ! 

Grace. He never — speak, sir! 

James. He left. Miss Grace, in a desperate hurry, and 
this note, I believe, for you. (Presenting a note on salver.) 

Grace. For me ! (About to snatch it, but restraining 
herself, takes it coolly.) (Exit James, left.) 

Excuse me. Gay. (Reads.) "Your manner during dinner 
has left me no alternative but instant departure ; my absence 
will release you from the oppression which my society must 
necessarily inflict on your sensitive mind. Dare I supplicate 
pardon and oblivion for the past? It is the last request 
of the self-deceived, but still loving Augustus Hamilton." 
(Puts her hand to her forehead and appears giddy.) 

Lady G. Hallo, Grace ! Pull up ; what's the matter ? 

Grace. (Recovering herself.) Nothing — the heat of 
the room. 

Lady G. Oh ! what excuse does he make ? particular 
unforeseen business, I suppose? 



54 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Grace. Why, yes — a mere formula — a — a — you may 
put it in the fire. {Puts it in her bosom.) 

Lady G. (Aside.) ,It is near enough to the fire where 
it is, 

Grace. (Center.) I'm glad he's gone. 

Lady G. (Right.) So am L 

Grace. He was a disagreeable, ignorant person. 

Lady G. Yes ; and so vulgar. 

Grace. No, he was not at all vulgar. 

Lady G. I mean in appearance. 

Grace. Oh ! how can you say so ? he was very distingue. 

Lady G. Well, I might have been mistaken, but I took 
him for a forward, intrusive — 

Grace. Good gracious, Gay ! he was very retiring — 
even shy. 

Lady G. (Aside.) It's all right. She is in love, — 
blows hot and cold in the same breath. 

Grace. How can you be a competent judge? Why, you 
have not known him more than a few hours, — while I — I — 

Lady G. Have known him two days and a quarter! I 
yield — I confess, I never was, or will be so intimate with 
him as you appeared to be ! Ha ! ha ! 

(Loud noise of argument; the folding-doors are thrown 
open.) 

Enter the whole party of Gentlemen^ apparently 
engaged in warm discussion. They assemble in knots, while 
the Servants hand coffee, etc. Max, Sir Harcourt, 
Dazzle, and Spanker, together. 

Daz. (Left.) But, my dear sir, consider the state of 
the two countries, under such a constitution. 

Sir H. (Left center.) The two countries ! What have 
they to do with the subject? 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 55 

Max. {Left center.) Everything. Look at their two 
legislative bodies. 

Span. {Center.) Ay, look at their two legislative 
bodies. 

Sir H. Why, it would inevitably establish universal 
anarchy and confusion. 

Grace. {Right center.) I think they are pretty well 
established already. 

Span. Well, suppose it did, what has anarchy and con- 
fusion to do with the subject? 

Lady G. {Right center.) Do look at my Dolly: he is 
arguing — talking politics — 'pon my life he is. {Calling.) 
Mr. Spanker, my dear ! 

Span. Excuse me, love, I am discussing a point of 
importance. 

Lady G. Oh, that is delicious ; he must discuss that to 
me. {She goes up and leads him doivn; he appears to have 
shaken off his gattcherie; she shakes her head.) Dolly! 
Dolly ! 

Span. Pardon me. Lady Gay Spanker, I conceive your 
mutilation of my sponsorial appellation highly derogatory — 
to my amour propre. 

Lady G. Your what ? Ho ! ho ! 

Span. And I particularly request that, for the future, 
I may not be treated with that cavalier spirit which does 
not become your sex nor your station, your ladyship. 

Lady G. You have been indulging till you have lost the 
little wit dribbled into your unfortunate little head — your 
brains want the whipper-in — you are not yourself. 

Span. Madam, I am doubly myself; and permit me to 
inform you, that unless you voluntarily pay obedience to 
my commands, I shall enforce them. 



56 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Lady G. Your commands ! 

Span. Yes, madam ; I mean to put a full stop to your 
hunting. 

Lady G. You do! ah! (Aside.) I can scarcely speak 
from delight. (Aloud.) Who put such an idea into your 
head, for I am sure it is not an original emanation of your 
genius ? 

Span. Sir Harcourt Courtly, my friend ; and now, mark 
me ! I request, for your own sake, that I may not be com- 
pelled to assert my a — my authority, as your husband. I 
shall say no more than this — if you persist in your absurd 
rebellion — 

L.VDY G. Well? 

Span. Contemplate a separation. 

(Looks at her haughtily and retires, center.) 

Lady G. Now I'm happy! My own little darling, ines- 
timable Dolly, has tumbled into a spirit, somehow. Sir 
Harcourt, too ! Ha ! ha ! he's trying to make him ill-treat 
me, so that his own suit may thrive. 

Sir H. (Left, advances.) Lady Gay! 

Lady G. (Aside.) Now for it. 

(They sit on ottoman, center.) 

Sir H. What hours of misery were those I passed when, 
by your secession, the room suffered a total eclipse. 

Lady G. Ah! you flatter. 

Sir H. No, pardon me, that were impossible. No, 
believe me, I tried to join in the boisterous mirth, but my 
thoughts would desert to the drawing-room. Ah ! how I 
envied the careless levity and cool indifference with which 
Mr. Spanker enjoyed your absence. 

Daz. (Who is lounging in a chair, right.) Max, that 
Madeira is worth its weight in gold ; I hope you have more 
of it. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 57 

Max. (Right, talking with Grace and Spanker.) A 
pipe, I think. 

Daz. I consider a magnum of that nectar, and a meer- 
schaum of kanaster, the ultimatum of all mundane bliss. 

Enter James, left. 

James. Mr. Charles Courtly! (Exit, left.) 

Sir H. Ah now, Max, you must see a living apology 
for my conduct. 

Enter Young Courtly, dressed very plainly, left. 

Well, Charles, how are you ? Don't be afraid. There, Max, 
what do you say now? 

Max. (Right center.) Well, this is the most extra- 
ordinary likeness. 

Grace. (Right, aside.) Yes — considering it is the 
original. I am not so easily deceived ! 

Max. (Crosses left center and shakes hands.) Sir, I 
am delighted to see you. 

Young C. Thank you, sir. 

Daz. (Right.) Will you be kind enough to introduce 
me, Sir Harcourt? 

Sir H. This is Mr. Dazzle, Charles. 

Young C. Which? (Looking from Spanker, right 
center, to Dazzle, right. Dazzle crosses right center, 
nearly tumbling over Spanker, zvho goes up. Charles 
winks at Dazzle.) 

Sir H. (To Lady Gay.) Is not that refreshing? Miss 
Harkaway — Charles, this is your mother, or rather will be. 

Young C. Madam, I shall love, honor, and obey you 
punctually. (Takes out a hook, sighs, and goes up, reading.) 



58 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Enter James, left. 

Sir H. You perceive? Quite unused to society — per- 
fectly ignorant of every conventional rule of life. 

James. The doctor and the young ladies have arrived. 

(Exit, left.) 

Max. The young ladies — now we must go to the hall — I 
make it a rule always to commence the festivities with a 
good old country dance — a rattling Sir Roger de Coverly; 
come, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Does this antiquity require a war-whoop in it? 

Max. (Center.) Nothing but a nimble foot and a light 
heart. 

Sir H. Lady Gay Spanker, will you honor me by becom- 
ing my preceptor? 

Lady G. Why, I am engaged — but (aloud) on such a 
plea as Sir Harcourt's, I must waive all obstacles. 

(Gives her hand.) 

Max. Now, Grace, girl — give your hand to Mr. Courtly. 

Grace. (Sitting, center.) Pray, excuse me, uncle — I 
have a headache. 

Sir H. (Aside left center, leading Lady Gay.) Jeal- 
ousy ! by the gods. Jealous of my devotions at another's 
fane! (Aloud.) Charles, my boy! amuse Miss Grace dur- 
ing our absence. (Exit zvith Lady Gay, left.) 

Max. (Left.) But don't you dance, Mr. Courtly? 

Young C. (Right.) Dance, sir! — I never dance — lean 
procure exercise in a much more rational manner — and 
music disturbs my meditations. 

Max. Well, do the gallant. 

(Exit left, with Spanker and Dazzle.) 

Young C. I never studied that art — but I have a Prize 
Essay on a hydrostatic subject, which would delight her — 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 59 

for it enchanted the Reverend Doctor Pump, of Corpus 
Christi. 

Grace. (Aside.) What on earth could have induced 
him to disfigure himself in that frightful way ! — I rather 
suspect some plot to entrap me into a confession. 

Young C. (Aside.) Dare I confess this trick to her? 
No ! Not until I have proved her affection indisputably. 
Let me see. (Takes a chair, and forgetting his assumed 
character, is about to take his natural free manner. Grace 
looks surprised. He turns abashed.) Madam, I have been 
desired to amuse you. 

Grace. Thank you. 

Young C. "The labor we delight in, physics pain." I 
will draw you a moral, ahem! Subject, the effects of 
inebriety — which according to Ben Jonson means perplex- 
ion of the intellects, caused by imbibing spirituous liquors. 
About an hour before my arrival, I passed an appalling 
evidence of the effects of this state — a carriage was over- 
thrown — horses killed — gentleman in a hopeless state, with 
his neck broken — all occasioned by the intoxication of the 
post-boy. 

Grace. That is very amusing. 

Young C. I found it edifying — nutritious food for 
reflection — the expiring man desired his best compliments 
to you. 

Grace. To me? (She rises.) 

Young C. Yes. 

Grace. His name was — 

Young C. Mr. Augustus Hamilton. 

Grace. Augustus ! Oh ! 

(Affects to faint, sinking on the ottoman.) 

Young C. (Aside.) Huzza! She loves me! 



60 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Grace. But where, sir, did this happen? 
Young C. About four miles down the road. 
Grace. He must be conveyed here. 

Enter James, left. 

James. Mr. Meddle, madam. {Exit, left.) 

Enter Meddle, left. 

Med. On very particular business. 

Grace. The very person. My dear sir ! 

Med. {Left.) My dear madam! 

Grace. {Center.) You must execute a very particular 
commission for me immediately. Mr. Hamilton has met 
with a frightful accident on the London road, and is in a 
dying- state. 

Med. Well ! I have no hesitation in saying, he takes it 
uncommonly easy — he looks as if he was used to it. 

Grace. You mistake ; that is not Mr. Hamilton, but Mr. 
Courtly, who will explain everything, and conduct you to 
the spot. 

Young C. Madam, that were useless, for I omitted to 
mention a small fact which occurred before I left Mr. 
Hamilton — he died. 

Grace. Dear me ! Oh, then we needn't trouble you, Mr. 
Meddle. {Music heard without, left.) Hark! I hear they 
are commencing a waltz — if you will ask me — perhaps a 
turn or two in the dance may tend to dispel the dreadful 
sensations you have aroused. 

Young C. {Aside.) If I can understand her, hang me! 
Hears of my death — screams out — and then asks me to 
waltz! Confound this disguise — I must retain it — I have 
gone too far with my dad to pull up now. {Aloud.) At 
your service, madam. 

{He crosses behind to left and offers his hand.) 




W. C. Bullitt, Jr., 1912, W. DeF. Manice, igir, A. M. Hartwell, 1911, 
as Lady Gay Spanker. as Charles Courtly. as Grace Harkaway. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 6 1 

Grace. (Aside.) I will pay him well for this trick! 
(Aloud.) Ah, poor Augustus Hamilton! 

(Exeunt, left, all but Meddle.) 

Med. Well, if that is not Mr. Hamilton, scratch me out 
with a big blade, for I am a blot. There is an error in 
the pleadings somewhere, and I will discover it. I would 
swear to his identity before the most discriminating jury. 
By the bye, this accident will form a capital excuse for my 
presence here. I just stepped in to see how matters worked, 
and — stay — here comes the bridegroom elect — and, oh ! in 
his very arms, Lady Gay Spanker! (Looks round.) 
Where are my witnesses? Oh, that some one else were 
here ! However I can retire and get some information, eh — 
Spanker versus Courtly — damages — witness. 

(Gets into an arm-chair, which he turns round, back to 
the audience.) 
Enter Sir Harcourt Courtly, supporting Lady Gay, left. 

Sir H. This cool room will recover you. 

Lady G. Excuse my trusting to you for support. 

Sir H. I am transported ! Allow me thus ever to sup- 
port this lovely burden, and I shall conceive that paradise 
is regained. (They sit.) 

Lady G. Oh ! Sir Harcourt, I feel very faint. 

Sir H. The waltz made you giddy. 

Lady G. And I have left my salts in the other room. 

Sir H. I always carry a flacon, for the express accom- 
modation of the fair sex. 

(Producing a smelling-bottle and sitting right of her.) 

Lady G. . Thank you — ah! (She sighs.) 

Sir H. What a sigh was there ! 

Lady G. The vapor of consuming grief. 

Sir H. Is it possible! Are you unhappy? Dear me! 
6 



62 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Lady G. Am I not married? 

Sir H. What a horrible state of existence. 

Lady G. I am never contradicted, so there are none of 
those enlivening, interesting little differences, which so 
pleasingly diversify the monotony of conjugal life, like spots 
of verdure — no quarrels, like oases in the desert of matri- 
mony — no rows. 

Sir H. How vulgar ! what a brute ! 

Lady G. I never have anything but my own way ; and 
he won't permit me to spend more than I like. 

Sir H. Mean-spirited wretch ! 

Lady G. How can I help being miserable? 

Sir H. Miserable ! I wonder you are not in a lunatic 
asylum, with such unheard of barbarism ! 

Lady G. But worse than all that! 

Sir H. Can it be out-Heroded? 

Lady G. Yes, I could forgive that — I do — it is my duty. 
But only imagine — picture to yourself, my dear Sir Har- 
court, though I, the third daughter of an Earl, married him 
out of pity for his destitute and helpless situation as a 
bachelor with ten thousand a year — conceive, if you can — 
he actually permits me, with the most placid indifference, 
to flirt with any old fool I may meet. 

Sir H. Good gracious ! miserable idiot ! 

Lady G. I fear there is an incompatibility of temper, 
which renders a separation inevitable. 

Sir H. Indispensable, my dear madam! Had another 
man but looked at you, I should have annihilated him at 
once; and if he had the temerity to speak, his life alone 
could have expiated his crime. 

Lady G. Oh, an existence of such a nature is too bright 
for the eye of thought — too sweet to bear reflection. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 63 

Sir H. My devotion, eternal, deep — 

Lady G. Oh, Sir Harcourt! 

Sir H. {Adore fervently.) Your every thought should 
be a separate study — each wish forestalled by the quick 
apprehension of a kindred soul. 

Lady G. Alas ! how can I avoid my fate ? 

Sir H. If a life — a heart — were offered to your aston- 
ished view by one who is considered the index of fashion — 
the vane of the beau monde — if you saw him at your feet 
begging, beseeching your acceptance of all, and more than 
this, what would your answer — 

Lady G. Ah ! I know of none so devoted ! 

Sir H. You do! {Throwing himself upon his knees.) 
Behold Sir Harcourt Courtly ! 

(Meddle jumps up into the chair and ivrites in his memo- 
randum book.) 

Lady G. {Aside.) Ha! ha! Yoicks ! Puss has 
broken cover. (Meddle sits again.) 

Sir H. Speak, adored, dearest Lady Gay ! — speak — will 
you fly from the tyranny of such a monster's roof, and 
accept the soul which lives but in your presence ! 

Lady G. Do not press me. Oh, spare a weak, yielding 
woman — be contented to know that you are, alas ! too 
dear to me. But the world — the world would say — 

Sir H. Let us be a precedent to open a more extended 
and liberal view of matrimonial advantages to society. 

Lady G. How irresistible is your argument ! Oh ! 
pause! {They put their chairs back.) 

Sir H. I have ascertained for a fact, that every trades- 
man of mine lives with his wife, and thus you see it has 
become a vulgar and plebian custom. 



64 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Lady G. Leave me ; I feel I cannot withstand your 
powers of persuasion. Swear that you will never forsake 
me. 

Sir H. Dictate the oath. May I grow wrinkled — 
may two inches be added to the circumference of my waist 
— may I lose the fall in my back — may I be old and ugly 
the instant I forego one tithe of adoration. 

Lady G. I must believe you. 

Sir H. Shall we leave this detestable spot — this horrible 
vicinity ? 

Lady G. The sooner the better ; to-morrow evening let 
it be. Now let me return ; my absence will be remarked. 
{He kisses her hand.) Do I appear confused? Has my 
agitation rendered me unfit to enter the room? 

Sir H. More angelic by a lovely tinge of heightened 
color. 

Lady G. To-morrow, in this room, which opens on the 
lawn. 

Sir H. At eleven o'clock. 

Lady G. The rest of the family will be at supper ; I'll 
plead indisposition. Have your carriage in waiting, and 
four horses. Remember, please be particular to have four ; 
don't let the affair come off shabbily. Adieu, dear Sir 
Harcourt! {Exit, right.) 

Sir H. {Marches pompously across the stage.) Veni, 
vidi, vici ! Hannibal, Caesar, Napoleon, Alexander never 
completed so fair a conquest. Poor creature ! how she loves 
me! I pity so prostrating a passion, and ought to return 
it. I will ; it is a duty I owe to society and fashion. 

{Exit, left.) 

Med. {Turns the chair round.) "There is a tide in the 
affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 65 

fortune." This is my tide — I am the only witness. "Virtue 
is sure to find its own reward." But I've no time to con- 
template what it shall be — something- huge. Let me see — 
Spanker versus Courtly — Crim. Con. Damages placed at 
£150,000 at least, for juries always decimate your hopes. 

Enter Spanker, left. 

Span. I cannot find Gay anywhere. 

Med. The plaintiff himself — I must commence the 
action. Mr. Spanker, as I have information of deep and 
vital importance to impart, will you take a seat? {They sit 
solemnly. Meddle takes out a note-book and pencil.) 
Ahem! You have a wife? 

Reenter Lady Gay, right. She crosses behind to left door, 
and listens. 

Span. (Left center.) Yes, I believe I — 

Med. (Right center.) Will you be kind enough, with- 
out any prevarication, to answer my questions? — You have 
a wife? 

Span. You alarm — I — 

Med. Compose yourself and reserve your feelings; take 
time to consider. You have a wife? 

Span. Yes — 

Med. He has a wife — good — a bona fide wife — bound 
morally and legally to be your wife, and nobody else's in 
efifect, except on your written permission — 

Span. But what has this — 

Med. Hush ! allow me, my dear sir, to congratulate you. 

(Shakes his hand.) 

Span. What for? 



66 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Med. Lady Gay Spanker is about to dishonor the bond 
of wedlock by eloping from you. 

Span. (Starting.) What? 

Med. (Pushing him dowji again.) I thought you would 
be overjoyed. Place the affair in my hands, and I will 
venture to promise the largest damages on record. 

Span. (Starts up.) Damn the damages! — I want my 
wife. Oh, I'll go and ask her not to run away. She may 
run away with me — she may hunt — she may ride — any- 
thing she likes. Oh, sir, let us put a stop to this affair. 

Med. (Who has put the chairs back.) Put a stop to it! 
do not alarm me, sir. Sir, you will spoil the most exquisite 
brief that was ever penned. It must proceed — it shall pro- 
ceed. It is illegal to prevent it, and I will bring an action 
against you for wilful intent to injure the profession. 

Span. Oh, what an ass I am ! Oh, I have driven her 
to this. It was all that cursed brandy punch on the top 
of Burgundy. What a fool I was ! 

Med. It was the happiest moment of your life. 

Span. So I thought at the time ; but we live to grow 
wiser. Tell me, who is the vile seducer? 

Med. Sir Harcourt Courtly. 

Span. Ha ! he is my best friend. 

Med. I should think he is. If you will accompany me — 
here is a verbatim copy of the whole transaction in short- 
hand — sworn to by me. 

Span. Only let me have Gay back again. 

Med. Even that may be arranged — this way. 

Span. That ever I should live to see my wife run away. 
Oh, I will do anything — keep two packs of hounds — buy 
up every horse and ass in England — myself included — oh! 
(Exeunt Spanker and Meddle, right.) 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 



67 



Lady G. Ha! ha! ha! Poor Dolly! I'm sorry I must 
continue to deceive him. If he would but kindle up a little. 
So, that fellow overheard all— well, so much the better. 

Enter Young Courtly, left. 

Young C. My dear madam, how fares the plot? does 
my governor nibble. 

Lady G. Nibble! he is caught and in the basket. I 
have just left him with a hook in his gills, panting for very 
lack of element. But how goes on your encounter? 

Young C. Bravely. By a simple ruse, I have dis- 
covered that she loves me. I see but one chance against 
the best termination I could hope. 

Lady G. What is it? 

Young C. My father has told me that I return to town 
again to-morrow afternoon. 

Lady G. Well, I insist you stop and dine— keep out of 

the way. 

Young C. Oh, but what excuse shall I offer for dis- 
obedience ? What can I say when he sees me before dinner? 

Lady G. Say— say Grace. 

Enter Grace, left, and gets behind the zvmdozv curtains, 
right center. 

Young C. Ha! ha! 

Lady G. I have arranged to elope with Sir Harcourt 
myself to-morrow night. 

Young C. The deuce you have ! 

Lady G. Now if you could persuade Grace to follow 
that example— his carriage will be in waiting at the Park- 
be there a little before eleven, and it will just prevent our 
escape. Can you make her agree to that? 



68 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Young C. Oh, without the shg-htest difficulty, if Mr. 
Augustus Hamilton supplicates. 

Lady G. Success attend you. (Going, right.) 

Young C. I will bend the haughty Grace. (Going, left.) 
Lady G. Do. (Exeunt severally.) 

Grace. (Right center, at back.) Will you? 

End of Act Fourth. 



ACT FIFTH. 

Scene — The same. 

Enter Cool, left. 

Cool. This is the most serious affair Sir Harcourt has 
ever been engaged in. I took the hberty of considering 
him a fool when he told me he was going to marry ; but 
voluntarily to incur another man's incumbrance is very little 
short of madness. If he continues to conduct himself in 
this absurd manner, I shall be compelled to dismiss him. 

Enter Sir Harcourt, right, equipped for travelling. 

Sir H. Cool! 

Cool. Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. Is my chariot in waiting? 

Cool. For the last half hour at the park wicket. But, 
pardon the insinuation, sir ; would it not be more advisable 
to hesitate for a short reflection before you undertake the 
heavy responsibility of a woman? 

Sir H. No ; hesitation destroys the romance of a faux 
pas. 

Cool. What is to be done with Mr. Charles ? 

Sir. You, Cool, must return him to college. Pass 
through London, and deliver these papers ; here is a small 
notice of the coming elopement for the morning Post ; this, 
by an eye-witness, for the Herald; this, with all the parti- 
culars, for the Chronicle ; and the full and circumstantial 



70 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

account for the evening journals — after which, meet us at 

Boulogne. 

Cool. Very good, Sir Harcourt. (Going, left.) 

Sir H. Lose no time. Remember — Hotel Anglais, Bou- 

logne-sur-Mer. 

Cool. It shall be done. (Exit, left.) 

Sir H. With what indifference does a man of the world 

view the approach of the most perilous catastrophe ! 

Enter Lady Gay, right. 

Lady G. Sir Harcourt! 

Sir H. At your feet. 

Lady G. I had hoped you would have repented. 

Sir H. Repented! 

Lady G. Have you not come to say it was a jest? — say 
you have ! 

Sir H. Love is too sacred a subject to be trifled with. 
Come, let us fly ! See, I have procured disguises — 

Lady G. My courage begins to fail me. Let me return. 

Sir H. Impossible ! 

Lady G. Where do you intend to take me ? 

Sir H. You shall be my guide. The carriage waits. 

Lady G. You will never desert me ? 

Sir H. Desert ! Oh, Heavens ! Come, every moment 
is laden with danger. (They are going, right.) 

Lady G. Oh ! gracious ! 

Sir H. Hush! what is it? 

Lady G. I have forgotten — I must return. 

Sir H. Impossible ! 

Lady G. I must ! I must ! I have left Max — a pet 
'staghound, in his basket — without whom life would be 
unendurable — I could not exist! 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 7 1 

Sir H. No, no. Let him be sent after us in a hamper. 

Lady G. In a hamper ! Remorseless man ! Go — you 
love me not. How would you like to be sent after me — in 
a hamper? Let me fetch him. Hark! I hear him squeal! 
Oh? Max— Max! 

Sir H. Hush! for Heaven's sake. They'll imagine 
you're calling the Squire. I hear footsteps ; where can I 
retire? (Goes up, right.) 

Enter Meddle, Spanker, Dazzle, and Max, left. Lady 
Gay screams. 

Med. Spanker versus Courtly ! — I subpoena every one of 
you as witnesses ! — I have 'em ready — here they are — shil- 
ling a-piece. {Giving them round.) 

Lady G. Where is Sir Harcourt? 

Med. There ! — bear witness ! — call on the vile delinquent 
for protection ! 

Span. Oh ! his protection ! 

Lady G. What? ha! 

Med. I'll swear I overheard the whole elopement 
planned — before any jury! — where's the book? 

Span. {To Lady Gay.) Do you hear, you profligate? 

Lady G. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Daz. But where is this wretched Lothario? 

Med. Ay, where is the defendant? 

Span. Where lies the hoary villain? 

Lady G. What villain? 

Span. That will not serve you ! — I'll not be blinded that 
way! 

Med. We won't be blinded any way ! 

Max. I must seek Sir Harcourt, and demand an explan- 
ation ! Such a thing never occurred in Oak Hall before — 
it must be cleared up. {Exit, right.) 



72 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Med. (Aside to Spanker.) Now, take my advice; 
remember your gender. Mind the notes I have given you. 

Span. (Left center, aside.) All right! Here they are! 
Now, madam, I have procured the highest legal opinion 
on this point. 

Med. (Left.) Hear! hear! 

Span. And the question resolves itself into a — into — 
what's this? (Looks at notes.) 

Med. a nutshell ! 

Span. Yes, we are in a nutshell. Will you, in every 
respect, subscribe to my requests — desires — commands — 
(looks at notes) — orders — imperative — indicative — injunc- 
tive — or otherwise ? 

Lady G. (Aside.) 'Pon my life, he's actually going to 
assume the ribbons, and take the box-seat. I must put a 
stop to this. I will! (To Span.) Mr. Spanker, I have 
been insulted by Sir Harcourt Courtly. He tried to elope 
with me; I place myself under your protection — challenge 
him ! 

Daz. (Right.) Oh! I smell powder ! 

Lady G. I know it will all end in smoke : Sir Harcourt 
would rather run than fight. 

Daz. Command my services. My dear madam, can I be 
of any use? 

Span. Oh ! a challenge ! I must consult my legal 
adviser. 

Med. No! impossible! (Crosses, right center.) 

Daz. Pooh! the easiest thing in life! Leave it to me. 
What has an attorney to do with affairs of honor? — they 
are out of his element. 

Med. Compromise the question ! Pull his nose ! — we 
have no objection to that. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 73 

Daz. ( Turning to Lady Gay. ) Well, we have no 
objection either — have we? 

Lady G. No ! — pull his nose, that will be something. 

Med. And, moreover, it is not exactly actionable ! 

Daz. Isn't it ! — thank you — I'll note down that piece of 
information — it may be useful. 

Med. How ! cheated out of my legal knowledge ? 

(Crosses to Dazzle, who signifies he will pull his nose; 
Meddle hastily gets back to left.) 

Lady G. (Crosses to left center.) Mr. Spanker, I am 
determined! — I insist upon a challenge being sent to Sir 
Harcourt Courtly ! — and — mark me — if you refuse to fight 
him, I will. 

Med. Dont ; take my advice, you'll incapacit— 

Lady G. Look you, Mr. Meddle, unless you wish me 
to horsewhip you, hold your tongue. 

Med. What a she-tiger — I shall retire and collect my 
costs. (Exit, left.) 

Lady G. Mr. Spanker, oblige me by writing as I 
dictate. 

Span. Don't go! He's gone — and now I am defence- 
less ! Is this the fate of husbands ! — a duel ! Is this the 
result of becoming master of my own family? 

Lady G. Come, Dolly ! 

Span. I won't be Dollied ! 

(Sits left center, Dazzle wheels him round to left table, 
and sits on the arm of the chair.) 

Lady G. "Sir, the situation in which you were dis- 
covered with my wife, admits of neither explanation nor 
apology." 

Span. Oh, yes ! but it does — I don't believe you really 
intended to run quite away. 



74 LONDON ASSURANCE, 

Lady G. You do not; but I know better, I say I did, 
and if it had not been for your unfortunate interruption, 
I do not know where I might have been by this time. 
Go on. 

Span. "Nor apology." I'm writing my own death- 
warrant — committing suicide on compulsion. 

Lady G. "The bearer" — 

Span. That will be you. 

Daz. I am the bearer. 

Lady G. "Will arrange all preliminary matters, for 
another day must see this sacrilege expiated by your 
life or that of" — the bearer? 

Daz. No. 

Lady G. "Yours very sincerely (looking at Dazzle) — 
very sincerely? — (Lady Gay and Dazzle repeat "very 
sincerely," which Spanker repeats in astonishment.) 

Daz. "Dolly Spanker." 

Lady G. Dolly? No! No! 

Span. Oh ! "Adolphus Spanker." 

Lady G. Now, Mr. Dazzle. 

{Gives the letter over his head.) 

Daz. The document is as sacred as if it were a hundred 
pound bill. 

Lady G. We trust to your discretion. 

Span. His discretion ! Oh, put your head in a tiger's 
mouth, and trust to his discretion ! 

Daz. {Sealing letter, etc., with Spanker's seal.) My 
dear Lady Gay, matters of this kind are indigenous to my 
nature, independently of their pervading fascination to all 
humanity ; but this is the more especially delightful, as you 
may perceive I shall be the intimate and bosom friend of 
both parties. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 75 

Lady G. Is it not the only alternative in such a case ? 

Daz. It is a beautiful panacea in any, in every case. 
{Going — returns.) By the way where would you like this 
party of pleasure to come off? Open air shooting is pleas- 
ant enough, but if I might venture to advise, we could order 
half-a-dozen of that Madeira and a box of cigars into the 
billiard room, so make a night of it. Take up the irons 
every now and then ; string for first shot, and blaze away 
at one another in an amicable and gentlemanlike way ; so 
conclude the matter before the potency of the liquor could 
disturb the individuality of the object, or the smoke of the 
cigars render the outline dubious. Does such an arrange- 
ment concide with your views? 

Lady G. Perfectly. 

Daz. I trust shortly to be the harbinger of happy tidings. 

(Exit, left.) 

Span. (Crosses.) Lady Gay Spanker, are you ambi- 
tious of becoming a widow? 

Lady G. Why, Dolly, woman is at her best but weak, 
and weeds become me. 

Span. Female ! am I to be immolated on the altar of 
your vanity? 

Lady G. If you become pathetic, I shall laugh. 

Span. You are laughing! Farewell — base, heartless, 
unfeeling woman. (Exit, left.) 

Lady G. Ha! well, so I am! I am heartless, for he is 
a dear, good little fellow, and I ought not to play upon 
his feelings ; but 'pon my life he sounds so well up at con- 
cert pitch, that I feel disinclined to untune him. Poor Doll, 
I didn't think he cared so much about me. I will put him 
out of pain. 

(Exit, left. Sir Harcourt comes dozvn from window.) 



76 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. I have been a fool ! a dupe to my own vanity. 
I shall be pointed at as a ridiculous old coxcomb — and so 
I am — and has the world been ever laughing- at me ? Well, 
if it has I will revert the joke; they may say I am an old 
ass ; but I will prove that I am neither too old to repent 
my folly, nor such an ass as to flinch from confessing it. 
A blow half met is but half felt. 

Enter Dazzle, left. 

Daz. Sir Harcourt, may I be permitted the honor of 
a few minutes' conversation with you? 

Sir H. With pleasure. 

Daz. Have the kindness to throw your eye over that. 

(Gives letter.) 

Sir H. (Reads.) "Situation — my wife — apology — 
expiate — my life." Why, this is intended for a challenge. 

Daz. Why, indeed, I am perfectly aware that it is not 
quite en regie in the couching, for with that I had nothing 
to do ; but I trust that the irregularity of the composition 
will be confounded in the beauty of the subject. 

Sir H. Mr. Dazzle, are you in earnest ? 

Daz. Sir Harcourt Courtly, upon my honor I am, and I 
hope that no previous engagement will interfere with an 
immediate reply in propria persona. We have fixed upon 
the billiard room as the scene of action, which I have just 
seen properly illuminated in honor of the occasion ; and, 
by the bye, if your implements are not handy, I can oblige 
you with a pair of the sweetest things you ever handled — 
hair-triggered — saw grip ; heir-looms in my family. I 
regard them almost in the light of relations. 

Sir H. Sir, I shall avail myself of one of your relatives. 
Sir, I am happy to meet Mr. Spanker at any time or place 
he may appoint. 




W. C. Bullitt, Jr., 191: 
as Lady Gar Spanker. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 77 

Daz. The sooner the better, sir. Allow me to offer you 
my arm. I see you understand these matters ; — my friend 
Spanker is wofully ignorant — miserably uneducated. 

{Exeunt left.) 

Reenter Max with Grace, right. 

Max. (Left.) Give ye joy, girl, give ye joy. Sir 
Harcourt Courtly must consent to waive all title to your 
hand in favor of his son Charles. 

Grace. (Right.) Oh, indeed ! Is that the pitch of your 
congratulation — hum ! the exchange of an old fool for a 
young one? Pardon me if I am not able to distinguish the 
advantage. 

Max. Advantage ! 

Grace. Moreover, by what right am I a transferable 
cipher in the family of Courtly? So, then, my fate is 
reduced to this, to sacrifice my fortune, or unite myself with 
a worm-eaten edition of the Classics. 

Max. Why, he certainly is not such a fellow as I could 
have chosen for my little Grace ; but consider, to retain 
fifteen thousand a year! Now, tell me honestly — but why 
should I say honestly f Speak, girl, would you rather not 
have the lad? 

Grace. Why do you ask me? 

Max. Why look ye, I'm an old fellow ; another hunting 
season or two, and I shall be in at my own death — I can't 
leave you this house and land, because they are entailed, 
nor can I say I am sorry for it, for it is a good law; but 
I have a little box with my Grace's name upon it, where, 
since your father's death and miserly will, I have yearly 
placed a certain sum to be yours, should you refuse to fulfil 
the conditions prescribed. 
7 



78 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Grace. My own dear uncle ! 

(Clasping him round the neck.) 

Max. Pooh! pooh! what's to do now? Why, it was 
only a trifle — why, you little rogue, what are you crying 
about ? 

Grace. Nothing, but — 

Max. But what? Come, out with it. Will you have 
young Courtly? 

Reenter Lady Gay, left. 

Lady G. Oh ! Max, Max ! 

Max. Why, what's amiss with you? 

Lady G. I'm a wicked woman ! 

Max. What have you done ? 

Lady G. Everything! oh, I thought Sir Harcourt was 
a coward, but now I find that a man may be a coxcomb 
without being a poltroon. Just to show my husband how 
inconvenient it is to hold the ribbons sometimes, I made 
him send a challenge to the old fellow, and he, to my sur- 
prise, accepted it, and is going to blow my Dolly's brains 
out in the billiard room. 

Max. The devil! 

Lady G. Just when I imagined I had got my whip hand 
of him again, out comes my linch-pin — and over I go — oh ! 

Max. I will soon put a stop to that — a duel under my 
roof! Murder in Oak Hall! I'll shoot them both! 

(Exit, left.) 

Grace. Are you really in earnest? 

Lady G. Do you think it looks like a joke? Oh! Dolly, 
if you allow yourself to be shot, I will never forgive you — 
never ! Ah, he is a great fool, Grace ! but I can't tell why. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 79 

I would sooner lose my bridle hand than he should be hurt 
on my account. {Two shots are fired without, left.) 

Enter Sir Harcourt, left. 
Tell me — tell me — have you shot him — is he dead — my dear 
Sir Harcourt ? You horrid old brute — have you killed him ? 
I shall never forgive myself. (Exit, left.) 

Gr.\ce. (Right.) Oh, Sir Harcourt, what has happened? 

Sir H. (Left.) Don't be alarmed, I beg — your uncle 
interrupted us — discharged the weapons — locked the chal- 
lenger up in the billiard-room to cool his rage. 

Grace. Thank Heaven ! 

Sir H. Miss Grace, to apologize for my conduct were 
useless, still reparation is in my power, and I not only waive 
all title, right, or claim to your person or your fortune, but 
freely admit your power to bestow them on a more worthy 
object. 

Grace. This generosity. Sir Harcourt, is most unex- 
pected. 

Sir H. No, not generosity, but simply justice, justice! 

Grace. May I still beg a favor ? 

Sir H. Claim anything that is mine to grant. 

Grace. You have been duped by Lady Gay Spanker, I 
have also been cheated and played upon by her and Mr. 
Hamilton — may I beg that the contract between us may, 
to all appearance, be still held good ? 

Sir H. Certainly, although I confess I cannot see the 
point of your purpose. 

Enter Max, zvith Young Courtly, left. 
Max. Now, Grace, I have brought the lad. 
Grace. Thank you, uncle, but the trouble was quite 
unnecessary — Sir Harcourt holds to his original contract. 



8o LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Max. The deuce he does ! 

Grace. And I am wilHng — nay, eager, to become Lady 
Courtly. 

Young C. (Aside.) The deuce you are! 

Max. But, Sir Harcourt — 

Sir H. One word, Max, for an instant. 

(They retire, off right.) 

Young C. {Aside.) What can this mean? Can it be 
possible that I have been mistaken — that she is not in love 
with Augustus Hamilton? 

Grace. {Aside.) Now we shall find how he intends 
to bend the haughty Grace. 

Young C. Madam — Miss, I mean — are you really in 
earnest — are you in love with my father? 

Grace. No, indeed I am not. 

Young C. Are you in love with any one else ? 

Grace. No, or I should not marry him. 

Young C. Then you actually accept him as your 
husband ? 

Grace. In the common acceptation of the word. 

Young C. Why do you marry him, if you don't care 
about him? 

Grace. To save my fortune. 

Young C. Were you never in love ? 

Grace. Never ! 

Young C. {Aside.) Oh! what an ass I've been! 
{Aloud.) I heard Lady Gay mention something about a 
Mr. Hamilton. 

Grace. Ah, yes, a person who, after an acquaintance- 
ship of two days, had the assurance to make love to me, 
and I — 

Young C. Yes — you — well? 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 8l 

Grace. I pretended to receive his attentions. 

Young C. (Aside.) It was the best pretence I ever 
saw. 

Grace. An absurd, vain, conceited coxcomb, who 
appeared to imagine that I was so struck with his fulsome 
speech that he could turn me round his finger. 

Young C. (Aside.) My very thoughts ! 

Grace. But he was mistaken. 

Young C. Yet you seemed rather concerned about the 
news of his accident. 

Grace. His accident? No, but — 

Young C. But what? 

Grace. (Aside.) What can I say? (Aloud.) Ah, but 
my maid Pert's brother is a post-boy, and I thought he 
might have sustained an injury, poor boy. 

Young C. Madam, if the retention of your fortune be 
the plea on which you are about to bestow your hand on 
one you do not love, and whose very actions speak his 
carelessness for that inestimable jewel he is incapable of 
appreciating — know that I am devotedly, madly attached 
to you. 

Grace. You, sir? Impossible! 

Young C. Not at all — but inevitable — I have been so 
for a long time. 

Grace. Why, you never saw me until last night. 

Young C. I have seen you in imagination — you are 
the ideal I have worshipped. 

Grace. Since you press me into a confession — which 
nothing but this could bring me to speak — know, I did love 
poor Augustus Hamilton — 

Reenter Max and Sir Harcourt, right. 
but he — he is — no — more ! Pray, spare me, sir. 



82 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Young C. (Aside.) She loves me! And, oh! here's 
my governor again ! What a situation I am in. What is 
to be done? 

Enter Lady Gay, left. 

Lady G. Where have you put my Dolly? I have been 
racing all round the house — tell me, is he quite dead ? 

Max. ril have him brought in. {Exit, left.) 

Sir H. (Right.) My dear madam, you must perceive 
this unfortunate occurrence was no fault of mine. I was 
compelled to act as I have done — I was willing to offer any 
apology, but that resource was excluded as unacceptable. 

Lady G. I know — I know — 'twas I made him write that 
letter — there was no apology required — 'twas I that appar- 
ently seduced you from the paths of propriety — 'twas all a 
joke, and here is the end of it. 

Enter Max, Spanker and Dazzle, left. 

Oh, if he had but lived to say, "I forgive you. Gay!" 

Span. So I do! 

Lady G. (Seeing Spanker.) Ah! he is alive! 

Span. Of course I am ! 

Lady G. Ha! ha! ha! (Embraces him.) I will never 
hunt again — unless you wish it. Sell your stable — 

Span. No, no, — do what you like — say what you like for 
the future ! I find the head of the family has less ease and 
more responsibility than I, as a member, could have antici- 
pated. I abdicate ! 

(They go up, his arm round her waist, hers on his 
shoulder.) 

Enter Cool, left. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 83 

Sir H. Ah! Cool, here! (Aside to Cool.) You may- 
destroy those papers — I have altered my mind, and I do not 
intend to elope at present. Where are they? 

Cool. As you seemed particular, Sir Harcourt, I sent 
them off by the mail to London. 

Sir H. Why, then, a full description of the whole affair 
will be published to-morrow. 

Cool. Most irretrievably ! 

Sir H. You must post to town immediately, and stop 
the press. 

Cool. Beg pardon — but they would see me hanged first, 
Sir Harcourt; they don't frequently meet with such a 
profitable lie. 

James. (Without.) No, sir! no, sir! 

Enter James, left. 
James. Sir, there's a gentleman, who calls himself Mr. 
Solomon Isaacs, insists upon following me up. (Exit, left.) 

Enter Mr. Solomon Isaacs, left. 

Isaacs. Mr. Courtly, you will excuse my performance 
of a most disagreeable duty at any time, but more especially 
in such a manner. I must beg the honor of your company 
to town. 

Sir H. What! how! what for? 

Isaacs. (Left center.) For debt, Sir Harcourt. 

Sir H. (Center.) Arrested? impossible! Here must 
be some mistake. 

Isaacs. Not the slightest, sir. Judgment has been given 
in five cases, for the last three months ; but Mr. Courtly is 
an eel rather too nimble for my men. We have been on 
his track, and traced him down to this village, with Mr. 
Dazzle. 



84 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Daz. (Right.) Ah! Isaacs! how are you? 

Isaacs. Thank you, sir. (Speaks to Sir Harcourt.) 

Max. (Left.) Do you know him? 

Daz. Oh, intimately! Distantly related to his family — 
same arms on our escutcheon — empty purse falling thro' a 
hole in a pocket; motto, "Requiescat in pace" — which 
means, "Let virtue be its own reward." 

Sir H. (To Isaacs.) Oh, I thought there was a mis- 
take ! Know to your misfortune, that Mr. Hamilton was 
the person you dogged to Oak Hall, between whom and my 
son a most remarkable likeness exists. 

Isaacs. Ha! ha! Know, to your misfortune. Sir Har- 
court, that Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Courtly are one and the 
same person ! 

Sir H. Charles! 

Young C. (Up center.) Concealment is in vain — I am 
Augustus Hamilton. 

Sir H. Hang me if I didn't think it all along ! Oh you 
infernal cozening dog! (Crosses to him.) 

Isaacs. Now, then, Mr. Courtly — 

Grace. (Center.) Stay, sir — Mr. Charles Courtly is 
under age — ask his father. 

Sir H. Ahem ! — I won't — I won't pay a shilling of the 
rascal's debts — not a sixpence ! 

Grace. Then I will — you may retire. 

(Exit Isaacs, left.) 

Young C. I can now perceive the generous point of 
your conduct towards me; and, believe me, I appreciate, 
and will endeavor to deserve it. 

Max. (Crosses.) Ha! ha! Come, Sir Harcourt, you 
have been fairly beaten — you must forgive him — say you 
will. 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 85 

Sir H. So, sir, it appears you have been leading, cov- 
ertly, an infernal town life? 

Young C. (Center.) Yes, please, father. 

(Imitating Master Charles.) 

Sir H. None of your humbug, sir! (Aside.) He is 
my own son— how could I expect him to keep out of the 
fire? (Aloud.) And you, Mr. Cool!— have you been 
deceiving me? 

Cool. (Right.) Oh! Sir Harcourt, if your perception 
was played upon, how could / be expected to see ? 

(Pause — he goes up and off, left.) 

Sir H. Well, it would be useless to withhold my hand. 
There, boy ! (He gives his hand to Young Courtly, left. 
Grace comes down on the right side and offers her hand; 
he takes it.) What is all this? What do you want? 

Young C. Your blessing, father. 

Grace. If you please, father. 

Sir H. Oho ! the mystery is being solved. So, so, you 
young scoundrel, you have been making love— under the 

rose. 

Lady G. (Left center.) He learnt that from you. Sir 

Harcourt. 

Sir H. Ahem! What would you do now, if I were to 

withhold my consent? 
Grace. Do without it. 
Max. The will says, if Grace marries any one but you, 

her property reverts to your heir-apparent — and there he 

stands. 

Lady G. Make a virtue of necessity. 

Span. (Right.) I married from inclination, and see 

how happy I am. And if ever I have a sou- 
Lady G. Hush! Dolly, dear! 



86 LONDON ASSURANCE. 

Sir H. Well! take her, boy! Although you are too 
young to marry. (They retire with Max.) 

Lady G. Am I forgiven, Sir Harcourt? 

Sir H. Ahem! Why — a — (Aside.) Have you really 
deceived me? 

Lady G. Can you not see through this? 

Sir H. And you still love me? 

Lady G. As much as ever I did. 

Sir H. (Is about to kiss her hand, zvhen Spanker 
interposes betzveen them.) A very handsome ring, indeed. 

Span. Very. 

(Puts her arm in his and they go up to Dazzle.) 

Sir H. Poor little Spanker! 

Max. (Coming down, left, aside to Sir Harco,urt.) 
One point I wish to have settled. Who is Mr. Dazzle ? 

Sir H. (Center.) A relative of the Spankers, he told 
me. 

Max. Oh, no, a near connection of yours. 

Sir H. Never saw him before I came down here, in all 
my life. (To Young Courtly.) Charles, who is Mr. 
Dazzle ? 

Young C. Who? I don't know. Dazzle, Dazzle 
(Dazzle comes right), will you excuse an impertinent 
question ? 

Daz. (Right.) Certainly. 

Young C. Who the deuce are you? 

Daz. I have not the remotest idea. 

All. How, sir? 

Daz. Simple question as you may think it, it would 
puzzle half the world to answer. One thing I can vouch — 
Nature made me a gentleman — that is, I live on the best 



LONDON ASSURANCE. 87 

that can be procured for credit. I never spend my own 
money when I can oblige a friend. 

Sir H. And these are the deeds which attest your title 
to the name of gentleman? No, sir! The title of gentle- 
man is the only one out of any monarch's gift, yet within 
the reach of every peasant. It should be engrossed by 
Truth — stamped with Honor — sealed with Good-feeling — 
signed Man — and enrolled in every true young heart. 

The End. 



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